Fiction Carnival - Moonlight

James is hosting the IndieWeb Fiction Carnival for September with the topic of moonlight. Below, my entry.

Beneath the brilliant dark expanse I lie: concrete for the head and back, grass for the legs. Thirty seconds; all this complexity, this detail, makes nothing but black; two minutes and the exact same becomes pure white. Up again and adjust: it's only three settings, but I don't know; the professionals virtue is in knowing. Down again and head on concrete, thirty seconds. The back of my head is starting to hurt. Each knobble, subsumed usually into the flat indistinctness of the foot, makes itself known to me, is itself unique, and multitudinous, structured, self-defending, worn down; then worthless, then forgotten, then in twenty years repaved. And the photo: worthless, to be deleted at some point. Try again maybe. The sky is cloudy.

Hearing footsteps from above, and imagining myself seeing somebody, I call out, to a response! I can make out that he's carrying something: a colander, some pans, a sieve; he's a chef, he's just finished a shift t work, and he's moving house.

And from there onto life, and stress, and Alpha Centauri, and work, and nights out, and photography, and the definition of art, and creation and destruction and creative destruction, and nationalising the rail, and value and virtue, and moving, and living, and then, well, he'd better get a move on.

I lie on the grass, and capture not this time the whole sky, but the grass, and the moon, and the light.