The slaughter houses are clearing their stock. The carcasses mount in filthy piles in the streets. The scavengers pick at the bones of those that went to their hell behind the walls. A ray of sunlight gives little hope to those who are next or those that pass without notice. A rat rattles a can and a dove contrasts above. In between there is the new horizon, now scarred from the detritus it creates. The smell of new mown hay is replaced with stinging ammonia from a discard of the society that was to be created and failed.
Where to next? Another alley and another dawn in the new horizon.
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