Swelling of underground missives become overwhelmingly distressing. The clanking, grinding, churning of metal begins to rattle my joints and the fibers I call my own. I was nearly dead and dehydrated, I required the nutrients of an entire harvest, so clapping at my heels with feeling in hand I went upwards.
Expelled myself. Found not the expected metropolis but instead a foreign and mildly exciting, yet all be it dis-orienting land. It was comprable to the forest in some strange ways I can still not properly equate. The metropolis was dead, the environment fucked. This was the aftermath of the apex of maelstrom, the spitting, cud chewing, gurgling devil.
There was no longer a thread of what I once knew. I searched vaguely for a familiar face, but one I knew I should not see. Unfortunately upon entering the beauty of the canyon I was not able to gaze upward to what my minds eye had informed me was there.
ALAS AND HALT.
The face I was searching for could not be found. (Trespass un-obtainable.)
I now understand the key to seeing is being seen. Ergo, If I remain to be unseen it is only an effect of not seeing?! Awareness is a most fickle and interesting thing. Suddenly I breach my ground eye line of point of sight of view to hear and see a wheezing bear ambling along. I prepared a foreign tongue, but it was un-necessary.