West Vancouver

The West Vancouver skyline quivered on the windswept surface of the bay, dancing on Pacific water like congregations of celestial bodies anxious to stay moving in the glacial depths of space, little pulsing flames vibrating on the tension of the choppy waves.
We watched from up above and far away as the constellations changed with every fleeting gust that journeyed in from sea.

We watched while perched on hills with trees like great green brushes scouring the air until every last imperfection filtered through their piney bristles and siphoned into earth.
We watched from beneath a silent quilt of powder snow while behind our windows electric music pressed thick strokes of bass against the icy glass.

We watched the city slowly thaw and seep into the ocean, dissolving grains of light and sound like murky coils of viscous liquid drooping though the water, coiling down to the seabed and spreading out in shelves across the sand.

We watched as if the rhythm looped, as if it circled back with every break and started all again.

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