These fractured legs, standing alone on a desolate beach, seem to tell the story of a body long gone but a presence that lingers. Made of jagged stone, their texture is harsh, almost brutal—yet from within, warm glows of light push through the cracks. It's haunting, yet strangely intimate. Like remnants of a love that once was—burned out, broken, but still flickering with memory. The lights inside don’t scream for attention. They glow softly, like the final embers of something once powerful. You can almost imagine the footsteps in the sand belonging to a ghost—someone who left everything behind, except pain that still pulses beneath the surface. There’s something poetic here. A ruin that still breathes. A reminder that even in isolation, the things that once lit us up never fully disappear. The body may collapse, but the emotions—raw, buried, glowing—stay etched into time and earth.
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