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A Walk in the Rain
The city streets were washed clean, reflecting the neon signs like spilled paint. I pulled my collar up against the chill, stepping carefully over the puddles.
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The city streets were washed clean, reflecting the neon signs like spilled paint. I pulled my collar up against the chill, stepping carefully over the puddles.
turning towards the light
even on the darkest days
a quiet rebellion
Blue so dark it becomes black,
Pressure that builds, a heavy sack.
The silence here is loud.
It speaks in the rustle of leaves,
and the shifting of stones.
He worked with tiny gears, smaller than a grain of sand. His eyes, magnified by thick lenses, saw the universe not as stars, but as interlocking teeth.
We found it beneath the sand, untouched by time. The statues still stood, their faces eroded by a wind that blew millennia ago.