The seas
The seas settle to the west, not far, but buffered by strips of built up earth where artificial glimmering eddies catch chrome sunlight, and coast inland with the shimmers. Each successive belt of land grows more broad, until it is the width of the hills. The sense of the looming void comes before the crest of the hill, although distant still from the sea, hidden, antipodal, it is still present in light playing up through the continuous clouds, in the incompleteness that is desire, the automatic distancing from tangible objects and forms through her own activities or the machinations of the world. It is not there because she had seen it, or known of it, or was offered it, but because she wanted it to be, that empty directionlessness, where, afloat on her back, a real, active tidal current would draw her ever outward from the lines, walls, edges, gates, roads, lines converging to waterless deserts, in the east, from broad fluid freedom. Freedom was to be released from will. Whether by these circumstances or intangible ones, of whom freedom was their opposite, she walked eastward, away from the sea, with the high sun at her back.
