Dastra (1)

By the churning failing terraform, residents of New Lake Fens walk the chert rock paths beside a lime-coloured light. Like fire the terraform flickers against their faces and heavy clothes, their feet slap the flint. The terraform eats more than the echoes of their footsteps; it consumes daily the oxygen they breathe, encroaching ceaselessly on the city. Who was it that said, “Every passing day represents more and more relentlessly subtracted from less and less?” Indeed, how could it be otherwise?