"Somewhere a root dug ever-so-slowly deeper, creeping out its life path. Something blinked.
The stars edgelight cut like diamond to a pane, and, for a second, the inside of your very skull roared up and on to heaven, the soul struggling up, then settling, moving calmly as a jelly in the deep...
His knuckles were thoroughly scratched, a grimy intaglio of red and pink and white, dust and dirt and blood, their domes like tiny boiled quail eggs, innocent sustenance- his stomach slowly looped back on itself in one-quarter tactus, a cracking whip under heavy mud and that most primal state, sustained hunger..."
