Jun 02, 2010 23:26
The eastern sky was an orange streak, and the skyscrapers across the river were like burnished copper, glass windows reflecting the sunset. It was almost as though a massive artist had sculpted blocks of bronze or copper, set it down, and let the dusk close in around it. As though a mirror had been cut into the shape of tall buildings, and set to reflect the sunset.
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*off to finish reading Crime and Punishment, because I am now doomed* The agony that Raskolnikov goes through isn't helping the situation. x.x
nothing to say,
today,
imagery