The Epoch of Black Glass Shrouded in ink, lit by cannon

My grandfather, the fisherman, not the farmer, was fascinated with light.

Not the kind we get from candles and glowlamps, but the kind they say used to fill the skies, day or night. Back when day and night held some meaning, and weren't just the times we were awake or asleep, respectively.

He researched the Sun, the Stars, and the Moon whenever he was on land, then would take the materials he found out to sea with him. Father liked to joke that his research was what kept him from getting glassed for all those years. That search was too important to be inconveniences by something like death.

Sometimes I wish he had found those lights, somewhere out there. Even underneath the lamps and the lanterns, I can't help but feel the world I travel is cold and dark. The lights found in the trees and animals only slightly alleviates that crushing and claustrophobic feeling. I would have to suppose that's the reason that I travel so much, trying to distract myself, I guess.

Regardless, I've spent my life attempting to outrun it, or find a place that provides some sort of succor from it but so far it's been to no avail. Until that time, should it come, I might as well write down what I see.

— Langlois Noël Apollo