Daily story, February 22, 2025

Now and then when the air lifted away above us I would drift over new ground and settle somewhere unfamiliar. These places were all much the same: the same plants and creatures growing among the same stones and sand, just shaken about into a different arrangement. I would get used to this new place, bounded all around by rocks and above by that unsteady border with the air, and then everything would move again. Sometimes I see crabs scuttling away into the air, and I wish I could follow them. But what would be the point? There’s nowhere to go except another pool.