The moon peeps at me from behind a cloak of dark, rustling leaves. Its dark crevices move, almost. Could there still be water in them, I wonder. As the movement in the moon's crevices becomes more and more pronounced, the wind suddenly becomes chilly. I shiver. The crevices have started flying.
Distant dark flying objects. I strain my eyes. Some of those flying objects start moving into the neighbouring area of my roof. I see women with pointy hats sitting on large flying brooms. As I stare transfixed, they ignore me and fly around, quietly in the dark realm. Another earth within mine.