#172 (untitled)

There’s a warm breeze. 

I can hear a struggling sprinkler in the neighbors yard. 

Air conditioners running. 

The desert is still. Quiet. A vast opened like space. 

The Luxer beams towards the clouds. There’s a secret in that light. Thousands of years old. That light existed before the city. It will remain once the desert takes over again. 

The sprinkler gave up. 

There’s a warm breeze. 

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