...

I'm in a field.
And then a parking lot; diamonds crushed into the asphalt beneath my feet.
An endless beach, the sun burning high above. Where time is as material as circles drawn in the sand.
Sometimes there’s nothing here at all.
But then I'm in an old house, its decaying structure crumbling away - paint rolled unevenly over hollowed steel.
And the walls swim with fishes, tiny and iridescent; darting between the bricks, squeezing into the gaps between molecules. There's more room there than you think. I try to speak but the words can’t slip through the clouds of fishes dancing in my eyes.
And then I’m gone again. I see a boy through a glass window.
And on, and the ground is glowing white hot and I’m burning.
On still, and strange trees are rising from the ground, swaying unnaturally in an imperceptible breeze.
Sometimes my mind wanders to him.
Voladore.
And just as I think I can see his face, the daylight comes and scatters it all away.
Time to do it all over again.