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Blinding the World

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A cool smooth breeze swept across the frozen earth, gently and calmly stroking my face with its silky, smooth arms. Tentacles of warmth from the emerging sun fought the wrath of the wind surrounding me, slowly intensifying. The soil beneath my foot crumpled, crushed by my weight, compressed into a print, shaped by my foot - a trail, constantly stalking me. The tips of my fingers, tingling with cold and numb from the air sought refuge within my pocket, pressed against my body, soaking up warmth. When I last walked down the track, the fields, rivers, lakes, the path beneath me - even myself - were incomparable to their current ruins. I used to spring through the uninterrupted fields of prickly, yet soft heather, trudge along thick, gluey mud, and swim down the seemingly endless river towards the rapidly disappearing sun. But now, that was all gone. In front of me the land was like a cloth - colours had been washed, rinsed and drained out, leaving a bleak, dreary landscape. Waves of grass rippled with the breeze, down hollows filled with broken pieces of homes and hearts alike, across knife shaped ridges, finally halting at the steep cliff, towering over the dark ocean. In front of me lay complete destruction and total devastation. I stared at the remains of buildings surrounding me. A slight sense of recognition crept up inside of me - my gaze had fallen upon a small pile of rubble in the distance. The small feeling of recognition was now urging me, pushing me forward
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