Undaunted she steps on to the gravel. Somehow, she knew she was meant to arrive here although where �here� was she still wasn�t certain. The lighting was different. Here, the sounds warped in way that were nearly undistinguished as different but are in hindsight remembered as strange. The sulking olive undergrowth that laments her path seems friendly enough though the wailing wind occasionally sends the foliage in to a wildly unsettling shiver, she trudges on.
10:22 p.m. - 2013-05-10