The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.
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The image pans slowly around a coastal moor, a neighborhood of silent villas and empty streets, a forest path in fading summer light. There are no witnesses to tell the stories of how it all ended. All manifestations of human activity have ceased, giving way to the crackling and bustling of nature. In this world, which at first seems only to reflect a recent emptying, black things move about, as if dying echoes of a cataclysm too terrifying to narrate.
