During my own struggles in world-building, I came across this article, and it spoke to me like few ever has. It really does, and I thought it deserved a reblog on my own. As somebody who is currently going through a “World-Quagmire”, as I call it, it did highlight and made me realise that I’m not doing as bad a job as I think I’m doing. On a good day, anyway.
Please come and check it out, the blogger has some great content that is well worth reading.
A deep grumble echoes across the metal and bone cluttered expanse stretching towards the Great Wall and back beyond The Wasteland. The sky above us is grey. Dead. Perhaps, at one time, the choking smog had been nothing more than dark clouds threatening rain. The roar, a warning of the impending thunder. Beyond it, an azure sky where the dormant sun waits to illuminate the world below. Perhaps. The dark silhouette painting an elliptical shadow over the denizens is not a cloud, though it rumbles with a threatening charge. The floating city, ironically named Utopia, belches more tainted pollution into the grimy sky. High-rise buildings atop the metallic furnace stretch towards the sky, scraping the impenetrable heavens – adding to the smog that keeps the sun perpetually at bay.
How long will it continue to defy God’s laws? How long will it keep itself separate? Father watches it pass, grim, soot stained resentment etched into…
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