Sarana

At the wheelhouse of a cosmogonical glider the navigator slowly moves about. There’s no reason for haste; the time itself bends around the craft, which rests on the emptiness of space. The curvature is present and coincidentally emanates an odd feeling of modesty, as if not wishing to disturb. The helm intentively flickers in unison with the navigator’s thoughts. The electro-resonant link is in a biological feedback loop with the perception system.