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In Memoriam 111118; Across the isles in every village green are old stones covered in creeping moss, names obscured by the elements of time, the common names of people whose story stopped dead. The great culling of a generation remembered dimly. What was it all about ye ask? How did we ever get here from there… we never left as history rhymes in blood… sang a lonely voice. A minute past the silence the 20th Centuries atrocity exhibition fumbles in confusion thru every living being’s body, remembering unconsciously what happened to them before their birth. An endless shock to the soul like the broken brains of men & animals too close to high explosives.