User:A Helpful Little Gnome/udm/po7-9Mset2-8Pleft-5FBkey-2ndLblue

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ANOTHER WAY Crawling, you pass over the schisms of seven cracks. You see your hands. The ceiling, lifting up once more as if a lid, permits moonrise. Yet the light remains diffuse, cloudy, though no doubt stronger. There is no point of origin, nowhere to find the moon or source which surely must be artificial. You squint. Shapes are out there. But like floaters in your eyes, they move as you look before heading out of sight. Where do you go? THIS WAY THAT WAY THE LONG WAY WAY BACK TO THE WAY Or do you inspect? INSPECT