pieces of the latest art installation litter the walkways. careful lihting and crates and disembodied relics and disentombed funerary objects fill the halls like gutted organs of a living mechanical antiquity autopsied in an art museum.
in the darkness, all the spirit pieces of the tombs pull together into a mash. a remix of heroes and lovers and saints and peasantry melds together in the night.
the art pieces were carefully selected to represent a cross-section of history. the ghost, with they eyes of a king and the hands of a merchant and the farmer's tools and the woman's gentle jawline and all these sectioned pieces becomes a walking embodiment of the period of history.
this fragmented ghost staggers down the hall to the cafe, to the library, to the other ghosts of the museum that might enunciate the missing things of history.
a name. a curse to be lifted. an avenue through the tessaracts of life to a home of wholeness.
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