But it continues into my sleep into my dreams, this grayness, a colorless drape that starts to bleed into it all, freezing all motion, and when I think of you I no longer see your vibrant red
lips, the yellow flowers behind you, the green hills, the blue sky, all variants of gray, lifeless artifacts in the archives of Time, claimed by the great destroyer, into decay a ruined acropolis in my memory of a glorious Time past.