/fa/ - Fashion

>>7307996

Still, there is dust here - an ocean of it. As the sun pours past in the early hours, you can count beams. Beams, falling upon the lesser set pieces of a life well lived. Our search is exhaustive - it includes dead rooms, empty places and faded print materials – In one chamber there is a series of pointilised diagrams detailing our greatest engines. She finds it lashed to the oversides of warped wooden ceiling. The search includes many things.
It includes a small room beneath the turret where a single beam of sunlight shines through a tiny window and bleaches everything it touches while the decades peel away like scabs. I could wait here forever, drink here forever. I could count the days by watching the beams. I could write, hallucinate and prepare for the beyond. And here you said I could never become what I am.