To be soaring again—high in the atmosphere, two shadow shapes, the wind a thin shriek in their ears, their real bodies left behind unwanted and forgotten in the crematorium. The orphan didn’t know how far they had come from her little island, all she knew was that they had flown from night into daylight, and now the world was unrolling below her in all its multitudes of colours and textures. There were the vivid blues of the oceans, the greenish-blacks of the forests, the brilliant whites of the deserts. There were the tablecloth wrinkles of sand dunes, the knife cuts of river gorges, the piles of shattered crockery that were the mountain ranges. There were sheets of cloud that shone like mirrored steel, and other clouds that were monstrous fists, clenched and raised against the heavens. There were great waves out at sea that reared and rolled and crashed without ever coming in sight of a shore. And everything, land, water and air, glowed as if the light came not from the sun, but from some source internal to the planet.
What do You think about Wonders Of A Godless World?
