The Faded Quadrant
The building breathes, that is the only way to describe it, a slow, rhythmic expansion and contraction of its very bones that I feel in the soles of my shoes as I stand before the main entrance, a structure of glass and steel that was meant to be eternal but has begun to rot from the inside out, the paint peeling in long, sickly strips that resemble the shedding skin of a serpent, and I am...
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