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The quiet gloom is easing along the city streets, relieving the world of its obsession with color, drawing the dark out of every vine and limb. Rest, it murmurs with ice cold lips that feel warm to itself. The redwoode4eee4264a6fb61447e3c15f3cddd3c6
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Time is a fire that burns through everything: The redwing blackbird, the blood moon, the ranch and its every lilac in the bush. Only the nether of everything remains. A hologram of every ending. Resilience is the only thing. (a1db5754c6e559230d316c82fa7dfdeaf
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