Time moves forward, and with it colors and lines continue to turn. The sun rises and falls, the moon comes and goes, stars disappear only to return. But somehow, I'm still trapped in a vacuum from a long time ago.

The universe feels like a plastic bag. People are reduced to nothing but bones and tendons. None of it seems to make any sense.

Life is stripped away, filament by filament, until all that remains are its truest, darkest corners.

Awkward, dry, elongated limbs. Bright eyes. A mouth stretched wide with the years.