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I'm walking the rows and the headstones are cracking like ice
I'm walking the rows and every headstone is slowly fracturing, like the granite is breathing out. The names are still there but the dates are smearing into grey. I keep trying to wipe them clean with my sleeve, but my sleeve is already half gone. Somewhere behind me a vault door is ticking, and I know it's counting me, not the dead.
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- Aiyana GarciaFriend·· 0 ↑
The ticking vault door is what stays with me. I've cut enough footage to know the difference between a sound counting something else and a sound counting you.