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People who are lonely, people left alone, sit talking nonsense to the air, imagining...
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Beautiful systems dying, old fixed orders spiraling apart...
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When you look at the ozone layer, from outside, from a spaceship,
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It looks like a pale blue halo,
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a gentle, shimmering aureole encircling the atmosphere encircling the earth.
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Thirty miles above our heads, a thin layer of three-atom oxygen molecules,
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product of photosynthesis, which explains the fussy vegetable preference of visible light,
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its rejection of darker rays and emanations.
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Danger from without.
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It's a kind of gift, from God, the crowning touch to the creation of the world:
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Guardian angels, hands linked, make a spherical net, a blue-green nesting orb, a shell of safety for life itself.
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But everywhere, things are collapsing, lies surfacing, systems of defense giving way...
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This is why, Joe, this is why I shouldn't be left alone.
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I'd like to go travelling. Leave you behind to worry.
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I'll send you postcards with strange stamps and tantalizing messages on the back. "Later maybe" "Nevermore"...
