Jagged machines whose ancient forms I can’t imagine claw at the blue expanse above us. A graveyard of metal monsters.


Pedazos de máquinas serradas y quienes formas no reconozco arañan el amplio azul. Un cementerio de monstruos metales, cubiertos en dientes. 

The Job

The steel was cold in Marc’s hands as he climbed the side of the house, bones groaning with the beams as they took his weight.


A local man believes that Los Suelos is on the brink of “extreme, unglued anarchy.”