The sound of rain is the only clean sound in this world.
The smell of blood is old, coming from my bones, the smell of the fire and punishment three hundred years ago that soaked into my soul.
The rotten smell is new, sweet and full of corrupted vitality, coming from the living "source of decay" three steps away.
His gaze was hot, and even though he was wrapped in cloth, I could feel his gaze scraping my skin over and over again.
He had already figured out how to garnish it, how to season it, how to stuff me into his stomach juices.
And I'm going to show him - tanks have rear view mirrors, just like me.
"I'll keep an eye on you."
"You can't eat any more."
Intention: Love will give birth to flesh and blood