Shadows of buildings cast over from the grey light of English rain, pouring doubt on the faces below. One glance above, trickles of rain dance mockingly on each cheek. This is the moment hope peels from eyelids escaping in the changing wind. They are alone, in a sea of beings each soul here is sectioned by their recalls of loss. Unable to see beyond the darkness of the air, the weather fuels their fear, multiplying the venom. They are frozen, chilled by the winter breeze and immobilised by the woes of life.
Another hour, our fickle forecast unveils the sun.
Hanni Lane
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