A floating bird in a puddle of the unknown, drifting.

A boat flying through the air being wisped around by the breezing clouds.

The water refuses to reflect the boat and clouds. It urges to reflect reality.

Boats drift and birds wisp.

Not for me. Everything flips.

A perfect tribute to the surrealism of dreams and what they bring to me.

This isn’t a daydream but a nightmare. A horrific nightmare of isolation

Yet it is treasured and welcomed.