| Summary: | My train of thought over the river over the sea under the sea under the river. And overhead, far overhead, amidst the debris, Space Force gets a leg up from its genetically modified cereal accompaniment, its companion food, out of the packet and into the phantasm of vacuum which is trashed as readily as the sea, the sea. I am substrate, I am seas of islands, I am Aral drying out, I am sea death as oceans rise. The diaphanous greenweed dress, the nuclear supersub's pilot Captain Tempest, the evenings looking out over the sea the sea, the sea the sea. The evil colours the coral, shakes the bystander sea creatures, but they stay steady, being sea being background being setting. it is like this during an interception of leaky boats.
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