A scoured duo of fingers pushed into the skyline and began to cut into the haze that rested above the stink of the city. They glided through and across the smog and smoke and cut a blinding wound in the canopy of grey.
“Surely you’ve no further need for downheartedness?” Said the Leopold as he considered the ivory-colors keys.
Golden pillars of oranges and yellows shot from the cut left from the worn fingertip’s passing. Summer birds struggled also through slit and announced sovereignty with we such lowly followers held here to the soil by gravity and gravity alone.
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