Greyland Montale

Greyland
by Pierre Montale

We are in the year 3101.

The blue planet lies in ruins and ashes.
The world is gray.

Among the debris and dust, remnants of things can still be found, signs that tell us of a once magnificent and shimmering time.
We suspect that there must have been a cultural diversity here that is beyond our imagination.

A bottle.

A thick layer of dust covers it. We carefully free it from the dust.
Inside, the remnants of a fragrance. - We cautiously sniff it.

What is this?

This fragrance also tells of a truly splendid time. A precious spice must have once carried it, lush the most beautiful roses. Noble woods. This scent seems to have once been a perfectly composed beauty. Captivating and fascinating.

But time has taken away all its edges and peaks, covering it like powdered sugar with a dull layer of dust.
Like the rest of this desolate world, this fragrance seems to have lost its character over the years. What a pity.

With difficulty, we decipher something beneath the scratched surface of rock and dust:
M ::: E ::: M ::: O ::: I ::: R ::: M ::: A ::: N

Our time is running out, we must return to base.

Somewhat nostalgically, we leave this "Greyland" behind and dream of a world, a time, for which we lack the words to describe it.