The American Executive on the Holocaust Landscape PART ONE Excerpt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

The soil smells in Utopia. In the sunlight it smells bad, smells like a huge cancerous flower growing like an apparition, a ghostly presence not a flower. The tops of the grayish-green trees are too consistently uniform, showing no individual spurts of growth. The everyday plane of existence has a lid on it, if the observer looks up in Utopia, there is a dense plane almost a ceiling under the clouds that feels like a cranial metal plate restricting the ability to look up. The putrid soil seems to grow out of unnatural grafts, or a botanical science deviated in the garden.

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