Under the weight of accumulated anguish, colors have dried up again, their deceptiveness now shrouded in shadows, scorned by light. In small flocks, the echoes of Truth travel from an ungraspable distance, falling unto lost, despondent souls. Silently and intuitively, they transform into the whispers of demonic wisdom, between the purity of Image, and Eternity inscribed in concrete...
The Countdown
Old Nick's Passage
Valid Nonsense
Missing
The Rite of Peace
Till Monster Dies
Desert Phantom
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