Michael Lipschutz

Signs of the times, caught in an ambience between the ideologies of the corporate machine and the Machiavellian dictatorships that pervade this spinning world, faced daily with a deadly injection of consumerism and the narcissistic elevation of the grandeur of the holier-than-thou individual, subjected to a universe, that like an engine overheated and burning up, is leaving it’s answers in the broken dykes in New Orleans, polluted streams that once fed our clean tributaries, gripped between a promulgation of an instant gratification ethos, stirred by a drug culture devoid of a conscience, and blinded by profit. Do we follow the sheep into the same paddock? Too many gates wait to be opened. Buds on a branch, waiting for winter’s first thaw.