everything smells time in this place. the old trees growing into the grinds, against the graves, out of themselves. holes in their bellies, an adult could coil within their borders. return to the darkness which once meant nothing but safety. there was never a monster or a threatening claw, only a heartbeat roofing your existence.
when i look at them, i sense something old and bare. strong by its exposure. i miss mu communions with both of these.
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