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Stunning. The visible wandered through. At a glance, it was a watery flourish. If I only had eyes, I would capture them with a picture. I would hang them in the dark room. I would rub them in a tub of chemicals and preserve them with a thick coating of glue. Watch them. Flashing in the pool like goats upon the hill. The clouds form their thighs and thus the legend. Bereft of a clenching fist is a steady girl without numbers. Watching her too fast can be like climbing up a gassy ledge. But if I sneaze, I can see bubbles in certain clever fringes. Fringes of time extend to the very horizon, and will never be reached.
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