I came at last to the end of the canyon I had opened in the mountain. And what I saw before me was nearly too beautiful for words:
A field of golden grains, stretching eternally into the sea. Every strand of wheat delicately flowed of its own accord and yet they all waved in synchronistic harmony. Not one was out of place, yet I knew the impossibility of it. In spite of such, they all flowed as one.
In the distance where land and sea would met, I saw the raging ocean of grayish indigo and fury. The intensity so severe that the roar of winds meeting against them sent chills down my spine. And above, the sky was a tumultuous vaulted ceiling of darker grays and whites. The scene was almost magical.
But then I saw her in the distance, and the entirety of it all was put to shame before my eyes in a moment’s glance
I came here for the white
But I’ve enjoyed everything that isn’t
I wanted to see the light
But the prettiest sight was the dark
I thought the chill be nice
Turns out I was cold and looking for the warmth
What do I have to say about any of this?
Not a damn thing in the slightest
girls in thigh highs
girls in summer dresses with floral patterns