What now? With even our dying cries stifled, what action is left to us?

What world awaits me beyond this new dawn? I see the bones of the old one crumbling around me, but the furnace of my anger, of my sorrow, pushes me inexorably forward, as if on rails.

How strange it is, to trek thoughtlessly upon ruins once named ‘home’.

I can not be the only one left still joylessly playing out foregone fantasies. I must find the others.

Better, at least, to end with a bang than a whimper, if we can.