In a way, we are walking across the water.

The golden light gleams along the curves of the land.

He waves hello to passing people though none ever wave back.

The clock chimes the hour in the city.

He is tired from all the attention, trying to ignore the avid onlookers.

The fog drifts in delicately, obscuring my vision with tiny pinpricks of cold.

Let’s go on an adventure where we don’t know what lies around the bend!

The old train rests dreaming with memories of exotic destinations long time past.

What fires are these that scorch my innards so violently?

A lonesome ground where its only occupants are pillars of power busily buzzing along.