Windmills123
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There is a certain line that is not to be crossed. A waltz, a dance of uncertainty is where everything falls apart for her.
Bookmarked by Windmills123
26 Aug 2025
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Heatwaves and Pale-storms.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Look at that,” he says, and points out over the city.
PERCEPTION: Kim’s balcony looks out through a maze of apartment buildings and city streets. Most days - if the fog or pollution isn’t too bad - it offers a brief glimpse of the warehouses on the harbor. On exceptionally clear days, the glint of the sea, a far-off line on the horizon. But today…
YOU: You frown.
PERCEPTION: The sea is gone.
INLAND EMPIRE: It is not there. Instead, it’s - nothingness.
HALF LIGHT: The sky, too. It’s not there.
SHIVERS: Even now, in Martinaise, the bombs are falling, the bombs will always fall - a song is playing on repeat, down through the mist there - a man is going out on a fishing boat, never to return - a woman is panting, pulling a man close to her, his head to her chest - another man is standing on a chair, looping his tie around the blade of a ceiling fan -
KIM KITSURAGI: “I think we’re going to get a Pale-storm after all, detective.”
Bookmarked by Windmills123
26 Aug 2025