Sundogs

Through the glimmer and the glitter reflected on the car windshield, the sky is invisible, and blue is not a colour; it is just the default setting no one has thought to change.

And the sky is not a thing, but a consequence of limitations and language.

And language is limitless, yet limited. The sky is not contained within it, and yet, it is.

Mock suns hang in the sky, and I imagine an animal made only of light. A sun dog. I imagine, in a few generations, given the right conditions, the bending of scientific principles, an effective breeding programme, a sky made only of sundogs.

A sky made only of light.