The city seems familiar to you. But you only see the surface. Beneath the thin facade are layers of the past. Changing. Rearranging. You pass by every day and barely notice. The old streets are gone. You can never return. Only ghosts remain. A shadow from a former memory not quite forgotten. You are unable to look at it but can glimpse it from the corner of your eye. Buildings crumble and corrode. Nature reclaims what is rightfully hers. From this senescence comes beauty, shape, form, texture. Patterns emerge. Light. Darkness. The echo of other times, places, people.



This is my world. This is the Slow Decay.