They’ll ask how you made it through the fire. Believe me, they’ll ask you. I tell ‘em, “it was a beautiful fight— even until the end.” Now excuse me, I’m going to sit here and enjoy the stillness— it’s been awhile.
The further we walk down this road together the more foggy our vision becomes. What started out as a painting has now become something tragic–– fragmented memories, warped and distorted tales. But I still see you, stranger. I still see you.