Little to see but the gleam, and barely deserving of the description. It resonates with the light of some other source, and poorly, like an object that is wet – no, better – greasy with oil. The lines rest at the edges and in the creases like fabric, but never direct or shiny. Always sliding away no matter how far around you walk.

I never walk anymore, it’s exhausting. And it makes me hungry, so I take the alternative of flight. Not an all-encompassing power of self motivated levitation – that’s stupid. This is the real deal: an understanding of air and how thick it actually is. If anyone paid the slightest attention to their dreams, they could do it too. Too bad they spend so much time awake and ignorant.

I gleam, in my own way, but similar in the way my source originates elsewhere. This thing is much larger than me, or perhaps I am quite small. Best not to get hung up on a rigid sense of relativity. There is so much more exploring to do. If you find me here, watch if you want, but try to stay dark.