Triangular Dream

The light had become an extremely sluggish yellow, a yellow that was filthy white. The distance between things had increased, and sounds were spaced differently, disconnectedly, and farther apart. As soon as they were heard, they suddenly ceased, as if cut short. The heat, which seemed to have intensified, was cold, though it was still heat. Through the crack between the window’s two shutters, the only visible tree displayed an exaggeratedly expectant attitude. It had a different kind of green, which infused it with silence. The atmosphere, like a flower, had closed its petals. And in the composition of space itself, a different interrelationship of something like planes had changed and fragmented the way that sounds, lights and colours use space.