• 'Draped a moonless, midnight-black, hooded pancho, he holds his head down slightly. Hood shrouding his visage, visage shrouding his unique feeling. Surrounding, there is nothing, yet it is all there. A siren's voice drifting through the empty, night air, becoming entangled in his ears. Has his world be thrown upside down? Had it been mirrored and had he been allowed to be an exception. His feet claimed no soil home yet, beneath pants of black and blue, his bare feet claimed a physical form as support, nay, paradise. Uniqueness as it may own but stands few inches shy of the Gravity, or lack there of. Despite being so high, yet so low, despite being surrounded by all he could ever dream yet surrounded by cold dust, despite defying that which the Gods claimed to be law, he stood, afloat and downside up, as if it were a casual existance. This feeling did come at a price. You see, he knew of it's (gravity's) absence. Something urged him to plummet to the void he knew to be Earth, yet his body failed to comply. He merely gazed, mockingly, at the dark abyss that had kept a hold of so many others with it's God-fearing law of gravity. A slight smirk appeared and a single phrase echoed into the night: "God-created has been God-destroyed.'