tarnera: (Default)
Silver ([personal profile] tarnera) wrote2015-05-27 08:39 pm


The ancient building creaks with every breath of wind, its sides vine-covered and riddled with holes. The flowers gather close, multiplying with every passing year. Every year they are that much closer to overcoming the building, wearing it down and trampling it under their gentle petals.

The sun, unchanged by the slow drama playing out beneath it, rises once more.

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