Still Passage

Descending is not the same as stopping. Pale lines run down through the indigo and keep running, each going as far as its own weight carries it and halting at a different height from the last. None of them arrive anywhere final.

The cream keeps its own light and does not follow. Most of what anyone carries eventually stops needing to be held. Nothing steers them now, and what was being carried is still travelling; it has only changed direction, and it continues with the same persistence it always had.

At that hour a room keeps descending without anyone attending to it. The quiet acquires a direction and keeps it.