This place contains a shallow chamber plumping up with breeze. Filling itself to lazy expansion, then calling out for some shiny, bright thing. A call like that will always be returned by an echo. This entire place is just echoes.  “This place holds no predictions about the future.Yet the resoluteness of a universe in stagnation might cease to unfold just like this.A place rather unstuck in time.Still, it’s a moving breathing place.Soft and slow.In a tiny pocket of its mind exists evolution and extinction. But there is something nuzzled in between.That’s this place.A Möbius stripDoubling up on itself until it becomes a haze.Not quite there. Not quite a vagueness.”Julie Berger Lindh