Her Living Image
“It presses like a weight against the wide open eyes hurting me, pressing till the eyes don’t take it in not the sight of blackness extending in through the eye from outside to inside the head, not the eye a channel a hole for blackness to flow through no more because pressed and squashed by insistent blackness it bursts to colours, each melting and oozing, flowing to the next, under the constant black pressure on the liquid film of the eyeball. It shows purple with yellow glowing bars and flick...ers of red, pressing harder shows stars which melt to dribble down midnight blue with coloured shooting pains.
Carolyn found herself in a desert. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Bare sands stretched away to the far horizons, and the sky above was so pure that she looked straight through it to outer space, to stars and planets and deep space beyond them. Everywhere was open and led the eye on. The air, she noticed with pleasure but without surprise, was fresh and cool.
People pretended deserts were hot.MoreLess
Carolyn found herself in a desert. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Bare sands stretched away to the far horizons, and the sky above was so pure that she looked straight through it to outer space, to stars and planets and deep space beyond them. Everywhere was open and led the eye on. The air, she noticed with pleasure but without surprise, was fresh and cool.
People pretended deserts were hot.MoreLess
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