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“The world had changed its attire last spring and what it was wearing now was a perfect fit to what it was deep inside: a controlling old slag who didn't care about anyone’s wishes and ignored everyone who won't live by her rules. Tom was finished with that cunt: the world behind the fogged up windows. He used to live in one of his own: a dirty, but well-protected world that no one had ever entered and everyone who even tried was to get shot before they made it over the threshold. ~ As the moon began to rust” — Sima B. Moussavian
The world had changed its attire last spring and what it was wearing now was a perfect fit to what it was deep inside: a controlling old slag who didn't care about anyone’s wishes and ignored everyone who won't live by her rules. Tom was finished with that cunt: the world behind the fogged up windows. He used to live in one of his own: a dirty, but well-protected world that no one had ever entered and everyone who even tried was to get shot before they made it over the threshold.
~ As the moon began to rust