A ruined building- overgrown
and decrepit, an air of neglect and sadness lingering everywhere.
She needs a place to
rest from the harsh glare of the morning light. Her feet are ready to fall off.
Her burden is dragging her down, making her tremble.
He lingers in an old
forgotten crevice- a hole in the wall, whiling away his time till the world remembers.
Suddenly, his head lifts up. He laughs- a cruel, sarcastic stereo.
A cold gust of wind
blows through, the leaves fly up in miniature whirlwinds and in the distance, a
door flies open.
She wakes up with a
start. All she hears is the echo of his smug voice, “Your choice...”
[Image: Robert Doisneau, Untitled (no date).]
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