The place of trust and the gathering of garbage pickers.  Whose boundaries are free from superstition and where Bluebirds dare not strike.  The summers are not lost in the cruel world around us.  Where our crucifixes stand up tall and proud for the world to see.  Where we dig holes by the roadside, with no shame, searching for hidden treasures in superficial dirge. When we find what we seek, we can slowly waltz.