Harps out and wailing

Yesterday I was saying we should move to the Land of the Dead and Sara wanted to know if it was a real place and where it is. Of course it's real, I said, but it moves around, everything overlaps… Sort of like where you go when you dream—you just wind up there suddenly, or slowly, and you look around and say, ah, Land of the Dead and there you are…and so many, many nights we've stood there, harps out and wailing with jaws dropped in awe under the heavy and beating sky pulsed with mad arabesques of stellar destinies and broken chance, all the gauges and compasses compacted into endless swirling circles spinning with the pressure of gravity spoked from all directions… Yes, yes, yes, the familiar Land of the Dead, Crossroads blasting nerves to raw inferno splinters so many, many, nights, oh yes!