Eruption at the Uffizi: Morbid Pop II
On the contrary, mankind is not at its best when it is most free.
Woe is the night sky. Storm lights fill the empty… from little sparks, witness FLAME.
Firenze is a husk. A battlefield of ruin, with the carcasses of the past littering every inch of its hallowed streets. Following years of ill-judged reverence to history, MYTH and LEGEND, have turned on the people - the ones who held them in such high regard for so many years before finally loosing their minds to madness. The gods of Firenze are no longer relics – but monstrous machines, digesting slowly the city’s inhabitants and ever flowing hordes of tardigrades.
It started with the eruption at the Uffizi, an institution of art that committed suicide and lost its soul, leaving behind only a stomach; waiting to consume all future and foolish attempts at thinly veiled post - human worship.
The Uffizi was a place that had decided to die. Soon the sickness spread and surrounding piazzas, villas and rotundas followed suit, killing themselves and fading into hungry depositories of despair.
Firenze was reborn.
The path to paradise remade in HELL.
"The infernal storm, eternal in its rage, sweeps and drives the spirits with its blast; it whirls them, lashing them with punishment. When they are swept back past their place of judgment then come the shrieks, laments, and anguished cries; there they blaspheme God's almighty power." - Dante Alighieri
