The Grey Room

The landscape is deprived of all that once made it rich. The light has surrendered into a calm shade. The air is arid and hushed. People seem few from far, in jagged composition they move around their place. Bendable instances of light lies about direction, this has been learnt so now it’s watched only with sedated interest. Nobody asks about meaning anymore. Faces melt with hills. Some that sees this find its attraction, other find its terror. The difference is minor and insignificant. The Grey Room moves towards undefined fears, to the quiet, uninvestigated, murmur of anxiety in the hinterlands of our minds.