Frothy moon.

Just outside the domed enclosure. Not a cloud in sight. Yet up against the glass, the floating lobe of light lingers in the distant. My thoughts take me through Pink's album. The refracted light. The rainbow path. The existence of echoes.

The lunatic stands on the grass, peering out into his new understanding. Awaiting the moment when no-one is looking towards his escape. Did we all get exiled? Did Eve do Adam wrong? Or was it just another tall tale to tell the children?