a flash to the eye. the perfect spacing for a glimpse to the outside; the horizontal blinds could be playing an illusionary trick. however, it was not left merely to the window. a fitting welcome home; the beauty of heat lightning recomposes the entire space around me every few seconds with an emphasis to the burnout at the window.

sufficiently far away, the sound dissipates before the accompanying thunder reaches me. evidence of a very distant storm; it is either a warning to an approach or an acknowledgment of the reprieve granted by perfect spacing. the atmosphere has absorbed the noise, while the light dances freely ahead breaking the night. on the inside, with no noise to partner the light, the room is presented momentarily, repeatedly as a violent eruption of my internal surrounds. outside the sky is either an endless grey or a flash of pure white. the silence is the perfect uncanny match.