just touches of color throughout. flashes and tinges, moments and pauses. everything flickers in slow motion, and we all are laughing down cold streets lined with the most disgusting filth.
smoke a steam seeps from the grates as our feet fly over the sleet-soaked concrete, the edges of my shoes slowly absorbing the wet black and i can feel them encroaching upon my toes.
everything is swirling. the city is a carnival, a close-quartered stable, a ship with no portholes, and the shadowmen hold the keys.
there are so many stops along the train lines; it's best to make sure you're getting off at the right ones at the right time, or else life passes you by in blurs and lamentable stretches where the doors are always ajar, and nothing good in guaranteed to enter through.
in the near distance, we see a respite from the steam and shadows, from the muck and grime, from the goblins and creatures. and in the form of an island of delights, our brash band of adventurers step off the carousel, and into delectable dreams. tonight, the answer was clear, and our camaraderie held steadfast and true.
lift someone's spirits up for no other reason than to lift them up.