a-thousand suns flare be-fore no-one's eye: you are the reflection
Light and sound reflect, infinitely, within a cosmos of their own production -- waves, eddying under the water's surface. Circling an elusive refrain, intensities disperse themselves; images depart from time, ephemeral and interminable, like a vague memory detached from any certain space or event. A dream world, an incorporeal theatre, to be explored like the caverns of one's own mind.
“There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair... Not in dreams; but here and now, in…
Light washes all around me, through the dim space of this room, over my blankets and my curtains; its dappled flow delicately paints over leaves and chairs and hands and figures; moment after fleeting moment this light searches through the shadow -- illuminating, briefly, this floating world -- and yet, faintly seen, somewhere behind it all, eternal, silent and uncaring, lying in the darkness between each frame of film, is life. So quickly does it pass us by.