Light bounced from every sharp edge, illuminating purples and greens, sprayed on the worn out walls of this old brewery. A sense of idle loneliness crawled through the forgotten machinery. Rusted and consumed by its memories. As broken glass and moss engulfs the unsteady ground I am reminded of the state loneliness leaves us in.
Oh, how easy it is to believe that you are forgotten by the world, when in fact it is impossible. In your darkest days, think of this brewery, with a broken back and yet it still stands. Lost, and found again.
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