Shadows! Ominous fucking shadows, wooden and looming and diminishing sightlines and everywhere.
The silo had crumbled down, to the ground. All the way down. My life, spilling all over the farm grounds for all to see. Pouring liquid. Vultures - picking and judging and condescending. I had never looked harder for it, this time, never harder. Something I just could not find, not this time. Protection, pristine and invaluable. Now, completely open. It happened fast and I can still see it as if on the outside; my mind - trash, my body - atrophied, my soul - a shell. I guess I would call it depression if I could find a concrete definition. No matter, indifference abound.
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