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“At the far end of the world is said to be a tree. Its branches spread towards the cracked open sky, and its roots pierce the earth, taking sustenance from the living rock. As the world ages and wars and strife wreck the land, the tree grows rotten. Black sap oozes from the bark, and more leaves grow. The Empire crumbles, as do all the civilised nations, slowly but surely. As for the bastions of hope sink slowly into the mire, so the tree withers and dies. All things end: songs, books, loves, lives: all we can do is treasure what we have, while we have it, until the transience of life catches up on all of us”

Tobias Helmgart
“A journey through the old world”

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