Paper Plains Prime

The landscape waits for you, holding its breath in anticipation of what it will become. Grass and dirt end and everything becomes colorless — less than white — except for herds of mutts roaming like strange nomadic tribes. Elephants as tall as gods, even from a distance, lose their heads in the clouds and you hope they continue thinking there is nothing here worth looking down for. Flocks of flying fish leap from cloud to cloud as sky whales float by, but there is nothing upon the endlessly blank earth until your hand draws it — be it blood or kinder colors.