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[Despite your best efforts, despite your attempts to find a solution - the world around you is crumbling. There's no reason why it should be, no clear way to stop it. All you know is that the world around you is dark and crumbly, broken things and unspoken things. Is this the end?
Maybe. Miracle Country, though, is throwing a party - the ballroom is decorated all over. There's an abundance of snacks and drinks, beautiful music playing, twinkling lights on the railings and columns, the balcony overlooking a fully blooming garden.
Later in the night, there'll be a massive display of fireworks - bursting in all sorts of bright colors and shapes. It's utter extravagance. You're even dressed for the occasion - Miracle Country's pulled out all the stops, dressing you in beautiful, decadent clothing.
In so many ways, it seems like an ending. But there's something else in the air - that willingness to go along with it, to enjoy yourself, to let yourself be at this party (where else would you go?). Everything around you is pointing towards nostalgia - that smell of the flowers in the garden reminding you of your childhood, the distant sound of the ocean reminding you of home, your journal flashing its light insistently at you as if to prompt you to write one last thing between its pages.
So party like it's your last night. For all you know, it is.]
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Maybe. Miracle Country, though, is throwing a party - the ballroom is decorated all over. There's an abundance of snacks and drinks, beautiful music playing, twinkling lights on the railings and columns, the balcony overlooking a fully blooming garden.
Later in the night, there'll be a massive display of fireworks - bursting in all sorts of bright colors and shapes. It's utter extravagance. You're even dressed for the occasion - Miracle Country's pulled out all the stops, dressing you in beautiful, decadent clothing.
In so many ways, it seems like an ending. But there's something else in the air - that willingness to go along with it, to enjoy yourself, to let yourself be at this party (where else would you go?). Everything around you is pointing towards nostalgia - that smell of the flowers in the garden reminding you of your childhood, the distant sound of the ocean reminding you of home, your journal flashing its light insistently at you as if to prompt you to write one last thing between its pages.
So party like it's your last night. For all you know, it is.]