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FRESH FISH
- Rep Power
- 21
Nowhere
Broken windows, no soul around. Walls painted by rain and mold. The cold wind swept in the decay. A swingset hangs by one chain. A few doves break trough the silence. The sound of wings. They take off. Abandoning a place you wouldn't go to. The roads lead nowhere, there is no purpose. Time exists only because of change and movement.
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