The droplets fall intermittently, precise and rhythmic. Each impact on the window a mechanical sequence, controlling sound and space. Outside a generator hums softly, the metric pulse of urban solitude.
Here resides a being, suspended in a moment of suspended architecture. Monotone echoes resound; the stark gravity of existence lingers as shadows stretch, defecting spatial dimensions into creases of existence.
Lights flicker, not in sync but persistently vigilant. The façades of structures stand, reflections of emotions distilled into geometric forms. Rain masquerades emotions as it dissolves into pools, tread expansions of solitude beneath this mechanical canopy.
Associations morph; water drips with the weight of empty digits, every bead slipping into the void. Cars passing by, individuals absent yet occupying space, busy moving in calculated trajectories, independent yet orphaned.
Here lie moments confined within glass prisons, curated memories erased by time's relentless counting machine. Solitude translates into quietude—a paradox of solitude gently strumming an artificial heart.
Free association administers the absent stir of solitude; repetition—geometry of feelings echoed indefinitely.
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