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Tor Glastonbury

Imagine a land and people so spiritually connected to the nucleus of Earths core pulse beat.. that for centuries they were untouchable..people that sing, grow, nurture, dance and play.. those who speak to nature and her creatures telepathically.. people that honour the green shoots.. ancient trees and birds and pastures of our land, inline to her inner beauty .. imagine if you can, that they are manipulated and used as the driving force to conquer the whole whirl.. for the faeries that live in our woods within .. the Red Roses are the petals of England .. the lips into her .. the white pink beauty of our skin... that has been so envied . So raped and brutalized and used to cause so much pain whirl wide.. what a cruel state of affairs.. Once our Island was enchanted .. as is New Zealand.. and many Islands are... white and black is female.. this is the tar get her... Tor Glastonbury is the heart beat .. My family calls me Tor .. in French it becomes To To the clown or the dog that pulls back the veil... remember who we are.. i am filling my heart for my land... and I am pulsing my drum for Tor.. beat your drums England cherish the power of our heart .. the last corner is ours.. to keep.. Victoria Cotton


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