We like the World. We are at peace, asleep in the outer space. These trees, fields and rivers, these crosses on hewn stone, aren't they all one ? Or do they exist ?

Through lenses the world opens,
Disclosing movement, restlessness and ravening;
A look at the other side of stillness.

Strangeness...

The small things amplify their being,
and armour is bred of brittleness;
Fierceness is born of frailty,
And the weak organs grow strong.

A fly leaps into largeness.
Its multiplied eyes a lattice.
Its body turns metal, black, in layers.
Glass and steel.
The other side of stillness:
Hardness.
The world, beneath its surface:
Hardness.
Frightening.
Darkness.