Comments
Loading Dream Comments...
You must be logged in to write a comment - Log In
The room was a mess of crumbling walls and broken tiles, a haunted place where dust made homes. In the midst of it all, a mural on the far wall—a sun-baked desert and a thoughtful Dali Look Alike blending into the sands during a epileptic freezing from sun stroke. His eyes followed you wherever you went, deep and distant because hey have nowhere else to go.
A vintage chair faced away from the mural, its fabric unworn down by years, still standing untouched by time, in a diorama of found objects. It felt like someone had been there just a moment ago, lost in the pseudo Salvador’s gaze, trying to understand his silence.
The room was a sanctuary for the disenchanted, a place where art met decay. The thoughtful man knew secrets of the sun and the desert, things you could almost grasp if you stared long enough. The room held a story, but kept it quiet, just like the thoughtless man.