A little girl whose long hair falls like so many ribbons. The tiny white soldiers of her teeth. I stop to mend my legs, the muscles I've knit and worn, knit and wound bay to bay. Fields scarred by barbed wire, bandaged with fleece. Someone's pants dancing dry on a line.
Farms are minuscule.
My hands immense. Fulmars fold into crevices of air. I lean down a hundred yards of sheer. The planet slips a little adjusting its plates. A door opens, a door shuts.