Pathos dwells in my heart
A mechanical whir. It reminds me of my father's scream. A cloth, it is white, held by four, three are small, unknown. I stand in front of it, next to it, a statue, huge. A child's experience, processing, confusion. Green nets like coordinates, dark the surroundings, a moving pyramid like a tank. There. It's so powerful, a thousand times bigger, for the first time in my life I feel tiny, devoted. Screams are quiet but do not fall silent. It's dripping. Slowly, like grenades, they detonate on sheet metal, I almost lose sanity, my field of vision narrows, I see bigger, more detailed, almost through things, but I can't be sure if I am hallucinating, my forehead is boiling. The sun drains water from my eyes, I long for the avenue of trees, the forest, the magic that the air holds, the creature, I cannot remember its appearance, if I try it changes its form. In this place slumbers the feeling that I would give my life for.