I must have drifted too far out now. A milky infinity has washed over the entire horizon, and everything out "beyond" bleeds into nothingness. A place without noise, cold, color, time, gravity... – without space. If only I had a rope. Or at least a thin, long string. To tie myself down, so I could find my way back. The ground is covered in damp sand. Drifting snow? Frozen dust? Maybe there is just a strange vapor hanging over it all, which the sun will never pierce. A landscape without shadows. A grey dream that I don’t even like, but I have a feeling I’ll be staying here a while longer.

Drifting through Noikosmos #8, 2011