I feel the night staring at me with its hollow, insomniac eyes, one waiting for the relief of the inescapable dawn and other hoping it will never come.
The night is a polished mirror, upon which the dreamless cast their reflection.
You think that trapped in our fragile cocoons, we peer out at the world, interpreting it in our own colours, shaping it to fit the contours of our limited imagination.
Truly believing that it is the only reality.
The unimaginable reality, Marcus, then how will we ever know it.
inside the raindrop
the dark shadow
of an empty cloud