Everything here was alive and eating. The moss ate the stone walls; the vines ate the roof; the insects ate the silence. It was a beautiful, terrifying cycle of consumption. You didn't visit the tropics to relax; you visited to witness the frantic, desperate explosion of life that didn't care if you were watching or not.
"Tropi goro hegre." Literal Translation: "The sun strikes the iron." Context: Spoken by the metal-smiths of the Southern Archipelago. tropi goro hegre
