If these were snowflakes,
mirages in the distance could be trapped inside a globe.
Cities inside, brickscapes alive, malleable.
Buildings are fluid – gasworks, cathedrals, neo-classical town halls. Sleepwalkers in the
streets float
along like drunks.
On polar expeditions, spires and arabesques rise inside of
ribboning auroras, stable in the midst of light’s descent.
Fixed in upper
atmosphere. To live there requires a subtler solidity – a body passed through
prismatic skies. Rainbow doubles, transparent, self-luminous. Not
far-away
but imperceptibly close, the vision made it seem a blur,
but the vision itself was faulty. This reflection of a real place.