Strange gray gunmetal cold day, the wind sheathed in a layer of sadness, immediacy as well. A sort of flicker to the air I haven't felt in a while, the sparkle of being alone, flying through space, singular, all that. I choke on grief from time to time but mostly it's just a sort of appreciation for the mechanations of fate, the kind of awareness it brings you to. I need to be more careful with the words I use. Words are deadly weapons, I throw them around, smoking craters ensue.
"Who am I in this dead city? I cannot remember either the street or the name of the crazy girl who once loved me."