Its pretty, in a strange way.
Metal ruins lean like the rusting bones of better days, and nothing, not even thistles, grow in dusty earth beneath their shadows. If this world was ever anything resembling fruitful, it certainly hasn’t been for a while.
You haven’t seen any water yet, and the skies don’t tell of rain, but dark shimmering lakes dot the landscape.
Lakes of oil. On earth it would have been sad, but here, where everything else looks so dull, the swirling colors on their surface captivate you.
When you look into them your own face stares back at you warped and distorted. And as you plunge your hand in to their unknowable depths, it almost looks as if the lakes themselves are smiling back at you.
ugh 