https://makersplace.com/mitrai/moonfall-1-of-1-342182/
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain."
~ From "Rhapsody on a windy night" by T.S.Eliot