I found myself wandering through the watery ruins of a crumbling town, buildings now no more than bricks and even those not complete.
Rickety walkways connect some of the structures, evidence of a recent presence.
The views are desolate, but beautiful.
Still, the only things that prosper here are the wildflowers, adding a pop of color into the gray landscape. Life, as a famous philosopher once said, will find a way.
Ruins, by Cica Ghost, runs through March.
(Via Ziki Questi.)