Lo, the silent edges! A halo of light that is the same shape as the thing itself. The drifting floaters in my vision against the bright white sky on a ferry to Ireland some years ago. The opposition colours of shut eyes. Dust on a photograph, the shadow the slide casing casts on a negative. Burnt retina light blobs. Shadows of trees. Imprints on the heart. Pixels. What is vision? See what exactly? See the unending golden chain. See apparitions, familiars. See histories and futures. I see you in the centre of my mind's eye. When I shut my eyes and try to be still I concentrate right in the middle of nothingness and bat the somethingness away. I see the unending golden chain, the way the morning falls lazily into afternoon and by the time I've noticed the shadows are long and it's coming on evening. The way winter shears the woods of summer. The way the ground turns to mud. How a dragonfly lives at the bottom of our pond as something a little monstrous and comes out like an insane miracle on the first hot day of the year. How a song lights a fire under a memory and makes a painting.