Freckled. Girl. Talk...

The other night Steven had written the following down.  All is quite here now. Water softly trickles over moss, the moss is silent. Distant memories of the recent past are slowly being lost for some time.  All is quiet here, the moss is slowly and silently creeping across the remains of dwelling places. Trees not to be out done have been steadily delivering seeds most everywhere, unknown and unseen. Endless amounts of time has passed as seedlings fall randomly but in such great numbers that some find places to call home. They sit silently awaiting moisture and light. It has been some time since these seeds were sown. Feeble rooftops long since collapsed have left only four walls which blocks the wind and so nurture many plants of different varieties which take root in the floors. The redwoods whose mighty roots and towering structures have in most cases now dispatched with the structures altogether. They outgrow their nurseries causing them to crumble and absorbing what nutrients can be found and otherwise binding bricks with their roots which are never to be found again.