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Barn Good-bye old derelict slated for demolition, bypassed by progress. Sunlight streams through vague, open lids illuminating countless grains of dust, universes falling from sightless eyes each one reflecting, refracting the prism of a past life. Slumbering now, the lair of International Harvester, the kerosene egg brooder, the Emerson radio. Ghost haunt, where faint rustles reincarnate past lovers dallying away rainy afternoons in the loft's soft straw. The heady breath of hay, wild rose, axle grease perfumes those memories. Inside, scurrying things nest deep in the interior of leather seats made brittle by age. Outside, distant din, big rigs streaming by, powerful, fast, implacable, carrying the present irradiated, reconstituted, chemically refined. Leaving yesterday chromed but unbelted, clean but unsterile, blessed, but unkempt to unsung ending. |
Additional Notes:
This is a rewritten ending after some very helpful critiques. You know who you are..and thanks!
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