A pearl in the sky, host of a beautiful dystopia of gleaming silver metal, fences and bridges and lights sliced by lattice-work cages, an eternal black sky wrapped snuggly about even in the ghastly pale day. A palace of crystal, a forest of ice, it's the same story, it's a different story, the desperate race through sparkling wilds is a chase through cities of shining tall buildings. Only I can't follow this way, my fingers won't move on their own, they demand foresight and knowledge and I can't sever the ties. It's only a matter of time, only a matter of time before the sky swallows me, swallows the little girl dancing, swallows the woman who can't find her way though the forest of city. Ruled by the moon, shifting and ambiguous, there's only a reflection of light here, there is nothing real to see. A pearl in a jar of rice; a pearl in a dragon's mouth, burned shining and black by the heat of its breath. Black moon inside with a stranglehold, roots curling outward like long fingers. Slow, slow, always so slow. I can only try in vain to catch up.