I am a spaceship hovering over some alien planet. Below me is a foreign geography composed of black forested continents stretched in light sandy oceans. The atmosphere of this place is seen to have an intricate web-like pattern of light and dark clouds, illuminated by the constant showers of meteors which falling into the planet's air, join it, leaving only ripples on the surface. Occasionally some black mass of life rises up off the sea and floats, speeding across below me -- a true flying island.
Black holes and nebulae burst out like living boils thrust upward from undersea currents, and in the deep space of exploding stars, cosmic spiders scour the surface for unlucky prey, as the naked boughs of trees drape over my head. I am a canoe, and the water is dark, large, and living.
Day 121 ended: ???