Earth become the colour of parchment, as dry as unfleshed bone exposed to the wind... thin lines are drawn across its surface... the shadows of lines writing the unremembered name of a place... it is rubbed by a purple sea into which stream mirrored rivers flowing from lakes the colour of lead across great bleached plains where black roads stripe sometimes black sometimes slate grey fields... trees of muted orange and stone pink bearing blue fruit stand on lilac trunks alone or in woods... flame-like trees grow out of the roofs of rust coloured houses on which obsessional texts have been scrawled in white chalk... soot black trees grip the soil with white clawlike roots holding the meaning of things in place... beyond light blue and umber hills blood-red mountains rise into a grey-green sky scratched with pale ochre and violet lines... there is a small clay vessel on the horizon which contains the rest of the unseen world, redeemed from the subjugation of time and compacted into a handful of dust.