you're sitting by your self, at home. the war is over, you say. everything is going to be alright. and you know, everything always pauses somehow here.
the glass shakes a bit, now, a loud sound, now. somewhere near, now, you dont panic.
its a small boom. its okay. you are okay. its a small boom
no, seriously. small. but in you its snowballing, you regret the minute you took off your clothes, and sat in bed, you regret the day you applied to college here, the day you allowed yourself to fall in love with the city.
you think, okai. ..okai...but nothing comes to mind
explosion // not anymore outside, but inside.
not in the city your are in, but rather a conceptual web. everywhere you have ever stepped;
i am not going to be part of a colonial residential neo-chunk..or am i?
well, i am not. small explosion.
note to self: explosions are not as fucked up as they sound
0134 > explosion #2