It's been an extensive move back to the native stomping grounds of the Witter Clan.
They call it the old farm house, they say there's nothing out here but a cesspit of desolation. Sure, call it what you want. For me, it's a place of nonexistence. All time seems to stop here. Just when you think you've forgotten what's going on in the city, the other side, you find out you haven't missed a thing. Two weeks is little difference between two months. Once the mind melds into the absence of time and all distractions are eradicated, creativity sets in. Be it musical or artistry. I can't stay out here too much longer though. As the old saying goes, too much of a good thing will do one harm, and it's so easy to forget.
"If you die in Babylon, you stay in Babylon." -Stangler, Carnivàle