This morning broke cool and overcast. My magic is out of me and flying in pieces like birds on the wings of my little ideas or on improbable reaches across the space that divides us as human beings.
That space flexes; it is sometimes nothing and sometimes impossibly vast, like the distance between an atom’s nucleus and one of its electrons. Who knows how close or how far apart they will be? You can’t tell from the candy shell, just like with people.
We each move within a range, a field, maybe. I try to extend my own by finding the edges and staying near them, watching for shimmering spots. I work at being a better attractant for events; I can apply what I know to the systems that surround me, also the ones that might define me.
I learned from watching Jack that if I see a clear space, I might look nearby for the disturbance that created or maintains it. And if I see a tanglement of activity, I know that surrounding it there are probably clear spaces with different rules.
Bill says it’s why I like to stir up trouble, so that I can watch what happens all around it.