obruence
For what traveling was worth, there was nothing more I had in mind rather than to remain sullen, insulant, completely competent towards something that would not speak; something that could not communicate with what was breathing, living, ALIVE. As I turned and looked to the skies, looked to the statue, I pondered, if but only for a moment, what lied beyond the memories of what once graced the marble that carved the wings of what was supposed to be an angel. I never thought that the fragility of my own demise would be pioneered upon something that was only bound to break and shatter.