say hello to the angels || punznap

History is cyclical. Sooner or later, everything returns to an endless circle, closing up where it all began.
Luke looks up at the ceiling with painfully parched and inflamed eyes, clearly aware that it will soon be over. A few days ago it seemed that the bottom had been reached, but at that moment there was a knock from below. The cheap motel room smells of blood and dead hopes. Luke steps with his foot on the wreckage of the camera, turning around his axis.
It remains only to dance on the fragments of his dreams and trampled wings.
Welcome to L.A