(Rose)
The endless roads are wider here. Up to a dozen tres wide. They’re clustered with herbs and other wild grass sprouting between fissures.
The roads are mostly clear of any vehicle, though the piles of wrecks on their sides are also innurable. The sides of the roads have endless line of wrecks and abandoned cars and trucks. So are rely rusted, so still look rather new, so look like recently uncovered fossils from a far different ti.
So are covered with the sa mushrooms than on the other side of the channel. Polyric mushrooms. They grow from plastics and they barely wither over the seasons, they can only grow larger over ti, filling the inside room.
We see dark bolts of feathers pass through right above us and vanish into the distance toward the sea. Birds I guess, though they seed larger, much larger.
The road to Paris is essentially quiet, like every other. I walk tirelessly, knowing I may never find what I’m looking for, and well aware that at every step I may encounter sothing unexpected.
We knew everything of the world, enough to reach the stars. It’s sohow been reset. Our species stepped aside from history and only left scarce ruins and knowledge behind, here and there.
In the distance I see strange buildings that look like windmills, only much higher and thinner. They certainly are not mills anymore.
They stand still, frozen. Moss seem to grow onto their blades as they beco green.
I see a fox wandering through the road peacefully. At last an animal that looks the sa as before. The fox looks at for a few seconds, intrigued, ears raised. It then resus its journey. And so do we.
It’s heading through the grass toward one of these windmills. I keep following the endless road, walking tirelessly until my feet and legs hurt.
Then I sit sowhere and rest for a while, barefoot. I have less and less blisters as the skin grows harder and thicker, and as Blu’s roots creeps inside my skin there to toughen it up. She also heals the wounds gently from within.
When I abruptly cut myself on a sharp object, there’s a spurt of blood that quickly stops. As I look at the cut, I can see her within , threads from within suturing the wound. I feel muscles I don’t know react, and there’s not much left of the wound soon enough.
R - That’s impressive, and slightly frightening.
B - Ain’t I good? We make a good team.
Among the blood I’ve lost on the ground, I notice in a corner of my eyes that so droplets move away and escape into the ground. But it was probably just my imagination as they dried.
We pass massive graveyards for vehicles and rubble, thousands of them and mounds. A wasteland actually unfolds before us. As if a few cities had been turned into wrecks and swept onto this place. This makes an odd fragnted horizon.
The road goes on next to those artificial hills. The wasteland is a colourful ocean of mories, most of which I can’t comprehend. I can’t understand what most of those things were used for.
I see a great snake, maybe fifty tres long and one or two tres wide, slithering in the distance on that odd land. Its mouth taller than I am gobbles so wrecks as it goes. I’m not sure about what it actually eats to live. I’d rather not het to close to figure it out.
R - Before I t you I’ve encountered an even bigger snake.
B - You already told about it a hundred tis Rose. You truly miss that little fellow, don’t you?
R - I guess.... I wonder what happened of it. It was so surreal.
B - It had its own instinct and road to follow.
I don’t reply. I keep walking as I faintly smile. The humongous snake here buries itself in the wasteland.
I walk endlessly. Signs by the road tells that Paris still is rather far away. A few days at least.
I’m heading south, as Autumn gets cold now.
The skies keep changing all day long in this countryside. For a day long, I walk next the infinite wasteland where only plastic foams grow. It’s a world of treasures and antiquities certainly. I’d rather leave it to history and move forward though. I want to go further rather than play the archaeologists here. I want to see more... And these open roads are only pulling ahead further.
Most of the ti, there is nothing conscious but us for miles around. Yet we can chuckle with each other. We have each other and we can move further.
~
I like this peaceful nostalgia as we go. My heart is pinched as I recall the ones I loved and lost.
As I live on in a beautiful world.
As I accomplish the dreams of many... I live for them too.
They all would have been proud and happy for ... They all would have been happy and reassured to know that I live on and am well. My odd family had been a loving one before anything else. I cherish their mory.
B - You’re thinking about them I can tell. Your lips are slightly pinched when you do.
R - I’m grateful to them and to you... Being alive with you today. Being able to live on to this day, I owe it to them and you. I love them so much, I miss them, and am sohow happy that I knew them once. They’re precious. Ah, and don’t worry, I love you now just as well. I love you.
She blushes, acting candid all of a sudden.
I keep putting my past into perspective to better understand my life, past and present. The idea that keeps coming back from this process is gratitude...
They all loved beyond what I could have myself given. They made alive.
One after another, Mother, Father, sisters, sister, and finally you; Flower.
I’m a strange humbled beast today, and I’m glad I have you. I hold you, dear.
Beyond mist and rain, as we go, I have you and myself, made from all of you over ti.
B - This is a little funny to hear you say such things, such a sweetheart you are at tis. I love that part of you too...
I’m funny when these emotions rise... I can see why.
Fierce and nice... Day and night. The balance is never set.
~
The road keeps changing as it bounces from city to city. They more or less look the sa from afar. Suburbs and city centres, streets lightened with artificial forests, or rather trees that since then grew too much.
Everything is still, in slow decay. It’s all silent. I’ve seen no trace of human life anywhere yet.
It’s raining more and more as we go south. The road to Paris is empty. I want to see this city. Hopefully I’ll have better luck this ti.
Through a city or another I’ve found a few more clothing and equipnt.
There’s nothing to hear but the rain as we walk all day long, until my feet hurt again. I eat what I can find, and rest where I can find shelter.
It’s an amazing journey; and slowly, we’re getting closer to our goal.
~
The road bounces from silent city to dead city, very slowly. It seems endless, but everything has an end.
In the distance, it appears, shrouded, but the old city seems to stand, still where it should be.
We’re reaching its outskirts. And the mood in the air suddenly changes.
~
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