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Description
The drifter, borne on a sea of rocking tides, carrying his orchard with him wherever he goes. In the cold seas of the Arctic, you can see it from a mile away, the fiery hues of russet and tawny leaves leaving a technicolour path upon the swell. In the warmer and temperate waters of the north, the spiraling leaves weave patterns against the dying sun.

And wherever he goes he's followed by a strange herald, a melancholy refrain that shifts and wavers with the direction of the winds. If you're standing on the prow of a boat, admidst the spray and the tang of the salt air it can be hard to make out, but curiously, it seems to draw even the fish who sense the rhythm of the music from beneath the surface.

Description
The drifter, borne on a sea of rocking tides, carrying his orchard with him wherever he goes. In the cold seas of the Arctic, you can see it from a mile away, the fiery hues of russet and tawny leaves leaving a technicolour path upon the swell. In the warmer and temperate waters of the north, the spiraling leaves weave patterns against the dying sun.

And wherever he goes he's followed by a strange herald, a melancholy refrain that shifts and wavers with the direction of the winds. If you're standing on the prow of a boat, admidst the spray and the tang of the salt air it can be hard to make out, but curiously, it seems to draw even the fish who sense the rhythm of the music from beneath the surface.