Dirty precipitation pooled in buckets falling from grey skies, cold faces covered against the broken glass winds, stray thoughts so far from unfeeling feet pushing past that first wave of red raw tired pain through joints and blood vessels. Ashes and refuse flow through their aqueducts less a Charon to guide them. Collectors of sugar-sapped bubble gum and bites of food flung from greedy faces. Cold in the last light of the damp city that clings to something, anything it can find.
Picture - N
Words - S
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