Katasdf

Concrete Jungle by Christopher Fantauzzi In this jungle I run, alone but that of the sound of distant traffic; movement. Busy lives, paths, souls, each with their own destination, hitting crossroads, collisions -- only the strong-willed make it out alive. For this jungle, alike that of the real wretched brush holds tales of fear; predators and prey, falls from grace. Fighting to survive we are lost. In this jungle I run, I escape, I live.