After the smoke clears and the dust settles. When the uproar silences and the quaking quiets. After everything that's happened. After every ever-after. After every afterward. In between every ending is the proof. The evidence. The evidence of everything we tried to build, to hold, to create, to mend. The proof of every attempt.
It's where chaos meets clean lines and geometry meets jagged edges. It's the residue. The remnants. The ruins. It's something raw and regal. Something poised and unpolished. It's a testament to the fact that some part of us is still standing. Still ready. A monument made of where we've come. The evidence of all we've been. The proof of a promise made of all we could still become.