Penal Colony 99

Trapped inside this pressurized pod, small and insignificant against an endless regolith ocean.

There was a time in history when the unsavory were banished. Prisoners to an island, yet free to start again.

There are two states of existence on the ‘dark’ side. The ghostly gray of day and the almost black on black of night. This is my Australia. No new beginnings, only reflections on the coming end. Still, every rotation I sip on weak replicated tea watching the light creep across an unchanging moonscape until it falls off a distant horizon and I drift into darkness again.

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