I came across a refuge dressed in turquoise tiles and dripping letters whilst debris grinded about the better times.
Tranquility, I thought, but it was a fallacy for the walls were talking to me.
Outside I found the replica of a forest right in a window’s joint.
And that is the cruelty of it all; time is unforgiving.
It once has been a cinema and now it smells of pigeon muck and bent metal.
When I was young, we went to the place and bought popcorn where now all kind of waste is dropped.
Inside, derelictions dwells on broken glass.
Outside, rose hips take back the staircases.
I never cared to take a look. But one day, on my way to work,
I peeped through the shattered window. And there,
inside,
was a small, dusted world, waiting to be kissed awake. (blink, blink and it may be gone)
irisgassenbauer 