Light.
Streaming out of you as much as into you.
The element you live in, moving or no.
It doesn't diminish, but it sorts itself into regions, golden geographies, radiant solids.
It seems to be the fabric, force and measure of the world.
As if the ground itself were blinding sky.
PLSG #6 by Bob Reeves
Release 1 / Serial number 110527 / Inform 7 build 6F95 (I6/v6.31 lib 6/12N)
The light takes shape, the shape of so many broad steps your eyes swim. You can't see the edges of the steps to left and right where they taper into the distance, and the top and bottom of the flight also melt into the shining. The golden stone they're hewn from seems hard enough to be eternal, soft enough to sink into. The air is sumptuously cool, sweet.
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