The cobbled streets wound their way around ancient stone buildings and out towards the city gates, gradually degrading to hardened dirt as it left the walls behind. I walked one of these paths alone, following the curves and lines until I reached those gates. The rising sun reflected off the portcullis and lit the wooden gates themselves a deep orange. Beyond them I saw foothills that rose steeply to mountains.
I turned to look back at the city. I saw the new sun resting
on the dome of the senate. The government buildings crowded all around it, suffocating
in their numbers. We always hated those buildings didn’t we? Those buildings that
held so many false smiles and sharp knives.
But your dead now, buried under the hill with so many others,
and now I must go on, lost into the hills.
I turn and set out on my journey.
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