* * *
Stories told never disappear. Reaching out.
People always listening. Or, used to always be.
Eyes down, walking fast.
They don’t hear anything, anymore. Ears shut. Listening only to their own thoughts.
Lonely, yet in their own company. Never learning anything new except for those thoughts imagined by their own lacking intellect.
Once they heard. Everything. Their minds wide open.
Eyes exploring. Curious.
The storytellers are new. The same rotting gray world, new authors.
The same. Without genuine feeling. Each story told exactly the same way, every time. The extinction of creativity.
Everything the same.
* * *