fineshrine

You're wearing our vintage misery

dry weather congested, flaring his nose within the short time he came upon the land of which all was perished. not an daring soul to see, animal nor plant that wasn’t hiding within one of the ravines that had yet to be explored by the bare eye. Paws dared at the small visible cracks beneath, walking casually around and in-between while his tongue rang to be quenched within the first option. a shift of weight send the man over an foot wide crevice, the effort far less to walk yards around each side instead of just across. Traveling to be done, did he not like it although; deep within he wanted to get far from the rubbish lands that connected and did he do so.


a desperate tongue exposed to the dry yet daring a form of participation within the air, searching his tongue for whatever decided to linger within the chill the wind gave. such an inconvenience how the moisture of to be called winter gave this land didn’t experience, just a deep wind-chill that dared him to find himself a rodent hole in the ground to find for himself.