Wheeling Gull Isle And I am gentle

RO or open to family!

Life becomes visible.

But blurry blue eyes cannot see things for how they really are. There are gyrating silhouettes against a too-bright haze that spills into the peaceful dark and over the boy Judah. He squirms nervously like a detainee being interrogated under a spotlight, looking for the safety of his temples and sanctuaries, but in their place is gliding smoke, just at ground level and high overhead. Everything is tall and vast, amorphous and strange. It’s sensory overload, this enciphered sight. He squeezes his eyes and a hundred stars cloud his vision, willing it all to go away. He wishes to be blind again!