...

There's a cadence to it, a rhythm, palpable, ghostlike. Like a fever and a trance, light through a cloudy lens, beaming all wispy and aflush.

It's that feeling like rocketships and cavalries, like symphonies or orchestras, something frenzied and all lit up, all torn to pieces and gathered in with harmony. Like poems read from loving lips. Like greyclouds showering the alleyways and keeping you inside.

It had something to do with dreaming.