Basga

They are not ordinary dust, they are spirits scattered and emerged from our bodies. Spirits that cannot ascend above the city, spirits that have become like an aura surrounding the city. Gray spirits, spirits each carrying a corner of this city. They resemble the guardians of the city, gray spirits. Meanwhile, ordinary people see large cockroaches, lonely painters don’t have a good life, novice photographers lose their frames, and garbage collectors are condemned to everything. And you can deceive yourself that this is not a piece of the city, it has no story of life within it, not even a slice of life. These are just spirits trapped up there, spirits that neither rise higher, nor descend lower, nor disappear.