geoff winde

A seditious archaeological dig into our species distinguishing, humanity extinguishing tendency; abstraction. Stories, verse and poetry about money. That filthy, grubby legal tender trap playfully excavated to unearth the unconscionable truth, that the light at the end of the tunnel, is turning into a hole in the f**king ground, and the reader really does need to get their hands dirty if we are to discover, and to save, ourselves as a life on this planet.