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Moonlight in Somnrea had never been the brightest. Tall buildings, clouds brown and unnatural, and night-time air traffic didn’t cloud the sky as much as the disturbances here on the surface did. In all honesty I didn’t mind the planes
much; the lights even had a sort of altered effect that resembled natural lights, like a cluster of stars moving together. It wasn’t the most soothing thing, but it wasn’t so bad. And the brown clouds sometimes gave an alien tint to the night, lighting the sky a dusty red. So it all really becomes rather different from a typical night, and that’s always a good thing.


But there’s always the stuff down below. The things we’ve done that don’t illuminate the sky in a positive way. The magic that invades a body through its eyes is pushed aside and replaced easily by the… dullness and chaotic silence of passing cars, ringing phones, and men shouting from their windows to their spouses. Neon lights, brighter than stars but that darkened the night with desynchronized activity. When one stands out in the middle of a dessert, or a meadow, and looks around and up or down, all one can see is an escape; a mansion, an apartment building, a hill house, a country house, a hut, a wooden fence alone in a meadow, they’re all the same bars. All made with the same steel.