Earth is birth: wild smells and moist, soft touches; the morning and rise to the sun, as it cuts through horizon. The sustainer and the mother of all, the gate we all leave and the same gate we come back to with every step; the very last door we go through - no matter whether lying in or scattered in ashes - to become, once again, one with it. Even when rock-hard, after drops of water it loses the stubbornness and allows our palms and feet leave marks as we please. Acceptance, I'd say, the best word I could relate with to the Earth element. Dams and wells are built of it, yet it is only a matter of time after the Earth gives in and evens flat to offer us the grounds for imaginable efforts.

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Metal could be anything. anything you want and anything you don't want. it's the essence of controversy: hot and liquid becomes cold and stoned; fragile and brittle yet stable and protective - what could be more conflicting? one of my dearest friends, I suspect, is of the Metal type. the motivation is of the crushing force, yet the despair frightens with its fatality. the metal is such an outstanding martyr: it holds on to the last bit, unbent yet - the physical chemistry is the cause - to the very moment of the crucial tension, - and then it shatters to shiny pieces...
the rust is deceiving - although corrosive, it's extremely harmful and damaging not only to the element itself, but to all around it: discoloration, abrasion, dust - the strongest of the elements when in good condition, yet the most vulnerable when hurt and exposed to the unfriendly terms - the controversial being.