I wish to move somewhere the end won’t even miss. A place down there, in that area of ‘what happened’ waste. Where roads don’t bend, and flowers don’t smell, and water filters have never been touched, and fuck…don’t even work really. Where no smile laughs, and no girls are kissed, and no man drives a car, only small bicycles with horns nobody can hear, because nobody is out together.

But no-body is a nobody, because everyone is special, silent, and lighting there own tree branches on fire. Just one vacant plot of land, with ghost town colors as vibrant as nightlife in Tokyo.