Lights coruscate as the fog emanates, informing the present. The centermost vent—time’s origin—a geyser as thick as the bellows at the froth of the falls, directs all. Past and future converse in the steam, bending in rivers, tipping clocks, sweeping about the trees.
Lives are a landscape across which banks of fog roll, revealing what is to come, concealing what’s elapsed.
Directly into the mist, she peers, throwing a lamp’s lit sneer. Two sets of eyes look back, one skips betwixt with a child’s giggle and fresh grass scents. The other glares back coarsely, framed by fine and furrowed lines of skin.
She holds a glacial gaze for perhaps another minute, or eight, or an epoch, fixed in the forecasting terrain events as they replay, a cascade.
Dreams is an ongoing project where we ask our favorite artists to create a piece of music inspired by a handmade collage.