=
"It is a hard path, but we have walked it." Looking back, the pink thread trails out of sight, and it's impossible to keep in mind. How long we've been walking like this is anyone's guess, though no one's business but ours. In this black expanse, void of all save us and our trace, a kind of gap forms in the static that crystallizes in each moment, only felt now without the momentum of the universe to shatter it with the swift arrival of the next. In these precisely echoing caves, a singular last sad question arises. "Who could get away with anything in an environment like this?" We stand motionless, observers as this question uses our motionless observation like a catapult to act as the last bip in plain view. A pleasure to behold, we watch as its time unfolds, unique, and some day all at once to be merging with ours. It traces path back and out of sight, to the house we emerged from in the distance. I recall the playing cards and their arrangement, ...