You know, I always did see an odd beauty in the wreckage I could find a certain charm in broken things: like the devastation left by a wildfire or the rubble of a collapsed building, there is a strange aesthetic in the brokenness of both things and people *** I always wondered at the way the life still somehow lingers, like nature takes over abandoned places or grows back from the destruction, the ashes nourish new forms of life, different but just as miraculous, like trees grow out of decaying bodies, or tears cleanse the soul, and broken people have a weird way of still functioning regardless, like heightened empathy and unwanted wisdom grew from all that ugliness, I think maybe my fascination was born out of recognition and the wonder out of hope that maybe something could blossom from the ruins of me too maybe I could regenerate too and maybe all the wrong that stunted my growth and strangled the life out of every

An idle mind is fast enough to cross a gap between dimension so that it has none. Here come to a place where there has little to do with solid things like Promises. And Time. It is a strange place for being so sweetly recieved, only in the end to be, deceived, What thing to take back to your Slow world? This place has presence at frightening speeds. You will look back and look back you will in horror and see how much, how fast, how far, and, how little Time, you Flew.