robinbloke | Exercising the ol' muscle

I think an owls hoot is designed to scare the hell out of everything that's below it. It's a low haunting sound that echos and probably sounds pretty damn confusing and horrific, this silent winged death that snatches without warning. You hear it's hooting call moving around the wood as you pull yourself tight under the pile of leaves, trying to stay calm but no, flight run, move, hide, And that's what it wants - to scare. To flush out it's prey. This silent winged bringer of death. The cries from above echoing, everywhere, the cries bring death...

Or is it an angel? White wings bared as it swoops down to snatch up the faithful, to punish the guilty; the good elevated up, up to the sky, brought high into the darkness above or destroyed. Torn to pieces. Ripped to bone or snapped in two. On the floor. Noone understands the angels. Noone can understand them. Some say there's only one.

And my word, the interface is actually; pretty nice. Reminds me suspiciously of confluence. Which actually, not a bad thing.