As the sun gently kisses those fine nets safeguarding two photosensitive upturned rusty buckets within a well of fluid possibilities, two little blankets are involuntarily drawn to the point of blindness. As sight recedes, visions emerge. The soul takes a break, basking in metarealist perceptions. Soul truth. Soulful truth. Between shades of a distant celestial palette designed to perfection at ease. There's this world; and then there are worlds, till light returns enveloped in eternal darkness.