Something about the smoking chimney of a house,
sitting on rolling hills of a field enclaved by faraway trees.

From the outside, they are all smoking chimneys. . .
On the inside, is a house, a people, and their journeys
Each has a story to tell,
bittersweet,
a blend of heaven and hell

And in the end, all the lives and the stories of those folks,
go up up in smoke
through the chimneys, in the air
to disappear 🫥 in the atmosphere.

Then moves in another people under that same chimney, to create their new story

Life is but a dream