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Industrial, once functional, this landscape sheathed by events that kick our backs and sting our eyes. The molten orange furnace now icy white corrected by the passing of time and halted by natures cruel vines, a moment of luscious green lies to me and I power on through lonely blue arches but the malaise is it’s own and the past cannot be changed.
What soul has not been touched by malaise?

Art ID: 37053dbb08fd24dc

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