Dark sun going. All at once whispers sound loudly, also. It was customary to dress their rags with cobwebs for lustrous sparkle by starlight.
A wind starts up where trees aren’t standing. Something sharp catches vision & turns it away. They’d mime being piteous in big shoes, & the children, solemn as windmills, would watch until they ceased.
Shiny cloud & silken. Gentle undulatory hill crest, undecided motion sky or land at rest, sky or ground on the move. Often in anger they called a-äaï ä-aäi & listened to slumbering birds answer.
Dark sun rising. Words contain their own eliminations, beat up old van rumbling down a hill. Their lives were an insomniac’s dream of sleep until they slept, also.