A cheerful pink monstrosity squats unapologetically in the center of a sterile bus interchange. Tentacles of garish plastic trinkets of no real use recline languorously on violently pink shelves. They are symptoms of a society with too much spending power and meager sensibility. A thousand heartbeats mingle and fade in the oblivious afternoon light. Nothing is private in this crowd; their faces, their sweat, their fears and dreams intermingle with yours to create a cacophony of the senses that is terrible and beautiful. A young man shuffles past, dragging his feet quickly, as if he is hesitant...Read More
The Daywalker Chronicles
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