The man who dreamed about muse

An Origin of Symmetry

For the longest stretch of distance a human could see, everything was orange. A unfiltered, uninterrupted and unforgiving shade. The brightness seemed to etch into my retina as though this colour was in fact a laser. I can not stress enough how this orange almost attacked me with intangible claws. What broke its gaze upon me was something too tall for human invention. Football posts, it seemed, where scattered across the land. Like giant forks ready for a meal, they towered above me and created dark black shadows. I could not fathom how these beasts had suddenly spawned on these plains, these metal structures appearing to be the work of some magnificent alien. They where planted in the white below me. A simple, smooth white, the white of a ceiling or a notebook page. Not glaring, not challenging, but softly being. I found a random calm in it for reasons unknown. Maybe it was the glare of the orange or the height of the pitchforks. As I took the sight in, I began to wonder what I was doing here. I could not recall the circumstances before this place. I was just..here. I wandered aimlessly for hours, walking in an unforgiving desert of no known origin, perfect symmetry of the towers and the sky. I wandered and wandered. I ran and ran. I didn't feel anything, not hunger or thirst, just a need to escape this world. As if months passed and nothing happened, I collapsed on the ground like a wounded animal. Without purpose I felt like nothing existed. I could not understand this.

And then I woke.