Translease

Bilbao (Bilbo), Basque Country
2094 A.D.

 


As the black clouds invade from the Caliphate of France, the ruinous rests of the Guggenheim Museum of New Arts and Performances start getting buried under the thin and slow rain.

The rain of July, do you know the rain of July? 
Because the whole city was under siege for the last 10 years for technocratic reasons.


The rest of the citizens (subjects) of the Iberian Peninsula were reduced to selective process of automatonization (A.S.S.), because... this whole State is controlled by a State of terror that lies in the shadows of the State.
The northern Spain is now just an electric garden of winter: 
Atlantic blue skies are seen through ceilings of glass by stolid eyes of... humans? What?


The republic of England and Scotland lies petrified under the waters for good, good riddance. 
Now everything is decadence and shit, and you always knew it would happen.
As it always was meant to be in your mind?
For ever? Always everything forever?

The whole rest of Europe, from the Russias to the africanized Portugal, it's bestially arabized, by a combined blend of troops of invasion from both, the China and the muslimized Russia.
 
To live like this
without a because
even, without a perhaps... isn't what you always wanted anyways?



Ah, haha ha?

Ha... ha.



Do you think I'm laughing?








On a street of Bilbo sounds an old Telefunken.
Archaic and post-digital apparatus from an era that is.


Dead.