It is quiet now. It has been quiet for weeks. Still very busy. Too busy. Always too busy. But now too quiet. The streets contain little more than silent echoes of the past, behemoths grazing amidst the ruins of what we once were. Silently watching us, them. Quietly watching them, us.
Time has passed by many times now, and we have named each moment. We have named each moment. And yet, there is still you. Quiet yet present. Opaque yet insignificant. Yes, insignificant. Those who have assigned significance are no more to be trusted. They are your friends. Our friends. They are not quiet they are not to be trusted they are not to be trusted. They are here, they have always been here, with us. We now are quiet. We now are busy.
They.
Us.
Quiet.