It was supposed to be June in Paris. She would have strolled around the crowded avenues not minding curious pairs of eyes measuring her outfit from top to bottom. Different eyes, different views…
Paris is just a distat dream these days, burried under tons of ruins of greed and lust for power. All we have left are the remains of what we have called life before. We thought it was life but it was prison. At leaste we have freedom now, freedom to explore vast emptyness of the world of few men. Freedom to survive.
She stands alone as the very last memory of those warm summers in Paris, lost in smoke and fire. She stands alone with the last shade of red to testify there will be hope. Alone as a spark in the dust she brings the memories of golden sunset colors and tries to touch the ground for the last time, she needs to survive after everything that has happened, when future just vanished and only dreams remained.
She is a glitch in the ruins of tomorrow.
She is a dream.