OH, MY FRIEND,
It is imperious in its height. Its towers are the guardians of this forgotten land. It's its purity and grandeur that makes it radiant. Its smoky walls seem to evaporate with every gasp I take. The darkened sky behind it deepens the halo which engulfs with a volatile, dusk. Was that the face of a dying being? The cracks in its walls seem to be shedding blood. Pearly blood... It feeds the soil it rests on, and the soil feeds it... Monstrous, monstrous....
The mesmerising construction has no doors, no gates, no windows.... It is a horrifying prison. The one who built it must have been trapped inside it. I believe I can hear him or her shouting from the guts of the living item. The wind whispers desperately into my ears, as if he's asking for me to assit the poor tormented soul.
I do wonder now: was this a regal challenge for a Master builder to seil inside it his most precious treasure? And if so, what if he didn't have any priceless belongings and he didn't have anything to seige inside it? This seems like the absolute punishment for a human. To be obliged to build something unique, which is made to emprison something and to proove itself worthless and lacking utillity...
I drear this sort of cages, this continuous and sinuous labirynth that never stops from disintegrating you and....
I can't go any further... I cannot do such utterance...
Until we meet again my friend,
The Imp
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