Shards of sunlight punctuated by sharp shadows, sliding and flashing across the paper as his hand gripped the pen and slid it rhythmically across the graduated lines. Dressed for the weekend’s summer weather in shorts, tank top, hat and glasses, and a green bandana worked around his neck and face as a mask.
The sun, flashing through the trees and the windows of the moving vehicle continued to trace shadows and shapes on his Brain Paper.
Just, Be.
Prior to this, of course, he added lubrication liberally and did certain exercises designed to flush waste products out of his system. Enthusiastically thus applied, and equipped, Pilot proceeded to redress his entire apparatus, taking time for light documentation as he went. He liberally applied a recent ointment to his fascia, which was visibly in need of attention, he noted
Looking again, Pilot could see that space, still darkened, was lightening up. The purplish haze he had seen earlier was gone, replaced by a greay light.
What of and whether or not people think just could not be controlled by Pilot. Therefore, into the darkness, it plunged. No more or less aware than before but certain, certain under its feet was his own path.
