Spherical tomb. I wait, as color waves transfer into grayscale. Cobblestone womb. I am safe.

The cellar beckons me with its wide open planks. Lower, lower, lower, the air gets heavier as I get lighter. Sun spots turn to shifting retinas, my optics becoming unreliable guides into the catacomb.

Circles, hollow, no. Readjust. The glisten redirects me. Infinite moat, you exist to trick me.

How do you listen for room tone in a non-reality? The end and the beginning only ideas I once knew. What I thought, was not, an allegoric architecture.

Musty specks get stuck in my nose hairs. Somehow its cooler down here. I’d like to stay.

A body in space is impermanent, so I lift my knees until they feel sunlight. Squinty eyes, I rise, back to objectivity.

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