It is there upon every reach. Bright shores and inky veils, and closer, other shades as well.
This place, layers upon layers, and within each layer, every delight, every wish, every lie, all the truth, the pounding of hearts in chests, the screams and cold sweat, the smiles then tears of what once was.
Tranquil ponds. Ghetto. Fields of heather and short grass. Clouds without end. Greycast mirrors that see faces long gone.