Kristen
The road is long.
We wake at 5 am, and are walking before 6.
Each kilometre ticks past, treacherous as a slow clock, the arrythmic brute. Tick… tick… … … (tick?).
Kristen
The road is long.
We wake at 5 am, and are walking before 6.
Each kilometre ticks past, treacherous as a slow clock, the arrythmic brute. Tick… tick… … … (tick?).
Callum
You can always spot an abandoned house by its roof. It’s the first thing to go, or at least the first thing your can see from a distance. The terracotta tiles collapse inwards, leaving a gaping hole that grows until only the rough stone walls are left.