The wind of scorched earth never stops.
The dry air flow carrying the radioactive dust is like invisible sandpaper, polishing this long-dead land over and over again. The giant buildings once called "the city" are now only the twisted steel skeletons piercing the dirty sky. The concrete blocks are weathered and peeled off, revealing the internal corrosion veins. As far as the field of vision can be seen, there is only monotonous and oppressive dimness and leaden gray. Only the shrill cries of mutated vultures that occasionally pass by break the suffocating silence.
