Indigo Blues

A volcano self-destructs ages ago, leaving in its wake a great emptiness which is filled with all that is cold and blue. Into that blueness there gazes a horde of cellulite-laden damsels pursued by balding bullies with light meters unzipped, ready to specify F stops and G spots. A great and mythical beast lurks within and without, and below there spreads out, for all to see, the blue gaze of mount Mayama; once a vengeful bitch… now a magnificent ditch: a crater of unapproachable serenity and scorn: a crater lake.