Hover, float, but do not fly. You’ll miss the passage of gods and spirits if you rush away. Grey seas and grey heavens; a sea of clouds, an endless sky. Without the familiarity of ground lines here and there, dotted lines to line the wide, wide Earth, you could be anywhere, everywhere, nowhere. But the colour is grey, the light is white, the sun is nowhere to be found. Perhaps the depth of nothingness is an illusion after all, and we are only marionettes surrounded by wallpaper and the muted glow of an unknown hour. Perhaps days pass as hours do when you cannot tell the time. Perhaps I am asleep on seas of weightless grey, afloat on winds that ebb and flow, and thus I dream.