It has been two weeks. Escape was found on 40th street for approximately 5 days, leaving pilgrims behind in savaged quarters.
I returned to worsened living conditions. Its dark and I am forced to live by candles. Hair has crawled out of the drain and now sits perched on the tiles of the shower. Dirty socks stake camp at the base of the toilet. A white towel serves as a rug, taking fingerprints of the dirt that collects.
The Queen of Siberia has draped our furniture in wax. Green wax. Now it is hard to recognize the brown of the desert from the seemingly green of the jungle.
The flicker of flame reminds us that fire is only a candlestick away but we can already feel the warmth of its destruction. When her eyes shut, our soul finds peace but now even the absence of her iris’ cause risk. Our sanity is at stake.
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