Trickles Seldom do trickles of sweat gather round one's eyebrows in contrast to a myriad trickles of vapour round a chalice of ice cold drink in a hot and humid landscape. In contrast, In the land of frost and ice where sweat is scarce to come by and man's tears dry up the moment they trickle out of the eye pod's in paranoid shame of discovery, as if the scarlet buds forever sworn to darkness might be exposed beyond the velvet curtains that should forever conceal them from the light if day. Man's vulnerability and his tears are his most private parts.
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