Fractured psyche, thousands of pieces of fragile glass. The broken shards lay around me in an endless dim place, lit from far reaching light all around. The ground is reflective and smooth, shining what light does reach here with the same elegance as polished silver.
Suddenly, the shards start to float in the air, filling this place. They start gently bobbing around and spinning, then the pace picks up.
Within seconds the shards are bumping into each other rapidly. It forms.
The Structure of Desire. Whatever you want, it takes its form.
Be careful though, it can all fall apart with the loss of Faith.
scraps