Gray from horizon to horizon. A stone ground peppered with cracks and with dust. The harsh grays of the floor seeming to fight the bright hopeful blues of the sky right above. The ground exists in parallel to the sky. Clumps of rocks forming crude imitations of the clouds high above. Reflections in puddles hoping to capture even a fraction of the light of the bright, burning sun.

The sky lets it’s hope fight the ground. Streaks of light pushing through the cracks. Pulling plants from the soft soil below, helping them grow past the hard rock that lines the floor. Rain, however uncommon, exists to give these plants the nutrients they require. The plants wait happily for every storm. The concrete is incapable of changing, the plants continue to grow.