Fragments of a half-story, half-dream called "The City, Not Long After". Beautiful, and the angel that walked and graced and passed those streets is the same fragmented faith-and-steel that peers at me from the deepest points of the city. Feet pounding against pavement, over grass, along glittering sidewalks, and each step sinks a little bit more of your soul into the world surrounding you. Lights, a thousand suns sparkle from every building, every doorway, from the flash of a camera to the neon beckoning you toward the sweet haven it shelters behind its spark... there is life in a city, life that sings and speaks and cries and begs and demands. Life...

...when the world ends...

It's been too long since Caleb has been sitting beside me, the two of us snuggling as we watch a movie, as he games, as we simply wait, content. Too long since my kitten has found himself tangled, not in string but in his own words as he trembles, begging, pleading, grateful for the slightest touch. Too long since I've walked the world that is already seeming almost a dream. Hollow.

Empty.

But somewhere within this city there's an angel, the curves of her body are the lines of a phone wire, her voice the sweet spring breeze and the harsher tones of metal against metal, her wings are spread, every sign and banner creating their depth and every sound of this city becoming the wind that keeps her aloft.

*shrugs slowly*

Life is odd. I'm going ever-so-slowly mad, but at least it's the weekend.