We are drawn

The horizon draws us

The way it happens is that you become unclear. A bright black morning takes you. There is fear and panic like our moons Phobos and Daimos. Phobos is doomed they say but you see it on the horizon every day, rising and setting in its narrow course. They are captives. It is said. You become one also.

As with the I, at first you seem to die. But then you find it’s not that but this -- a pure form called the old cold. People come back from it. Or least they seem to come back. They seem like people.

It’s never just one

We are drawn

Out & down


Stendahl