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We are standing at the side of the crinkled yellow sun, whose surface is slowly fragmenting into sharp angles. The white cone is staring offscreen at the back of the other sun's head. Cicada shells crack in the 暗い all around, waiting for lost bodies to return to them so that they may retreat, backwards through time, to their egg-shaped beginning.

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	We are standing at the side of the crinkled yellow sun, whose surface is slowly fragmenting into sharp angles. The white cone is staring offscreen at the back of the other sun's head. Cicada shells crack in the dark all around, waiting for lost bodies to return to them so that they may retreat, backwards through time, to their egg-shaped beginning.