Amidst the pines

There was the lilt of something soft setting the mind adrift; a rudderless waft past crumbling pillars into a lost space, forgotten now even by the looters and vandals. Great pines stretched into the chrome, up and away from the needle discards scattered about the floor beneath them. High and terrified. My footsteps, soft and languid, inaudible beyond the Barron's intimate nuances. On the scene. Time slows all a-sudden and the accompanying audio swiftly becoming inappropriate - this set needs silence. Tall and tense are the fences which hem this scene in. Beyond, the vast Mount Pleasant Laboratories where work continues in earnest to shed some light on the cancerous disease threatening to decimating the Devil. But here in circumference.. mort, macabre. Bodies snatched away, leaving... we, alone. Time limps by unnoticed. Any connection must surely be coincidence. Surely...
Dans une terre grasse et pleine d'escargots Je veux creuser moi-même une fosse profonde, Où je puisse à loisir étaler mes vieux os Et dormir dans l'oubli comme un requin dans l'onde. from, "Le Mort joyeux", Charles Baudelaire.

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