THE LAST BEAMS OF SUNLIGHT ILLUMINATE ANCIENT METAL AND STONES. A MOMENT NEVER LIVED BUT REMEMBERED, OF CELTIC SALT AIR, STINGING HEAVY WITH PURITY, OF NEON MOSS, GROWN FROM THE DARKEST ASH, OF VIOLET MOONLIGHT IN THE WAKING HOURS OF DAY. EYES CLOSE AND THE DREAMER IS VERY STILL, WINDOWS OF GREY SKY FADE, OUTSIDE THE BACKSEAT OF A COLD CAR, ACROSS LIFETIMES, ACROSS AN OCEAN. UNNOTICED, RUST FROM THE WINTER SNOW SLOWLY BLOOMS INTO THE METAL UNDERNEATH. THOUSANDS OF LAYERS OF SYMMETRY UNSEEN. MEMORIES FLASH FOR THE DREAMER OF A SINGLE FLAME, KEPT BURNING FOR CENTURIES. THOSE BORN AT DUSK, CALLED TO TEND IT.