The City

The City was cold. Brick walls flaking, mortar slowly crumbling. Concrete, bruised and stained as ferrous red leaked from their insides. Glass slumped in their sagging frames.

A dust devil swirled and danced amongst the abandoned vehicles. Dodging in and out; painting graffiti in the dirt that clung for purchase to the tired, cracked, asphalt.

But even now, the City rang with sound. Buildings groaned and creaked. Fairy tinkle of breaking glass echoed amongst the tall streets, a base accompaniment provided by the distant boom of a collapsing building.

So the City sang, as nature ate away at its flanks.