Monday, June 23, 2008

There was nothing left. The houses had crumbled. The streets had grown over with weeds, their winding tendrils reaching over the tar that had become sticky under the sun. The corpses had long since rotted away, the bones bleached in the sun. The silence was unending and thick. There was a sickening wet crack and a tree crashed to the ground. It proved beyond any doubt that a falling tree makes noise, even if not a soul is alive to hear it.