Intro

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Smith

Art

100

Gaea

Paint

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Creds

A balmy afternoon and the pink sea lapped up on a beach of blue sand.
Overhead, three moons, one wreathed with rings, were at the point of setting.
The couple who lay on beach towels, listened to a radio broadcast of Fidel Castro's
speeches, with an anthem of industrial music playing in the background.
Small sharks equipped with legs gambolled in the surf and cast knowing glances up
the beach at the pair.

He was a lightsmith and at his work wracked azure lightning on grids
of aquamarine, for the entertainment of paying customers.
She wove shaded air and sold secrets.

In their silence, only the plush-hisss of breakers registered.
In their minds was a meld which no observer, writer or reader could truly fathom.

And out at sea, leagues deep, where the red light faded to black,
the leviathan dreamed on.