Creative writing and Actifit report:
"The tracks still course with my blood"
@d-pend.
Traversing a skeleton from a bygone era, and through the brambles peak moon-beam-in-essence blooms. How am I come here where industry was born and died? What did the men speak of, perhaps yelling over the bustle of coal-fired mania? What did the women think; what games did the children play? Did they comprehend the evanescence of fresh paint and polished brass, to be overcome through green centuries of sweet decay? I somehow keep my balance, and continue walking over the rusted tracks.