Time stands still, and there is only light

 Fear.

Endless possibilities.

What I see is only a reflection of my state of mind, for this world contains everything until it doesn't. The world exists in a million unknown attributes until some of them start to fall into place.

And I fear being trapped in the rubble.

Under the weight of the walls as a causal maze collapses around me.

As I try to escape.

I try to think ahead, but that is worthless

For the future is all, a choke-point present between an unknown past and an infinite future.

All I can do is guess.

Try.

And yet,

it's worth nothing more than an unknown shift in odds.

Knowing and not knowing.

I was told to know.

They spoke of destiny.

How could they know what it would mean to me?

Nobody knows.

We all just try.

And I am just a state.

Temporary in so many ways.

I live them, and then they die, fall to reality and the present.

I'm mixed up.

Scattered.

Going in the wrong direction on five axes. Living in a world that none of us can ever understand, for it is all of us.

Untethered.

When I try to envision how I am right now, what's going on in my head, I see a marketplace bustling

with life. The night is creeping into the alleys and footpaths but the soft yellow lights keep the darkness

at bay.

In that sea of fluorescent lights are the wooden stands that purvey all manner of goods, but those appear

mostly empty. The streets, however, are filled as if a parade were coming to town this night. They're all

speaking to each other in their little clusters, never raising their voices, but projecting an energy of

emphasis that electrifies the calm. It all sounds like a quiet hum, but the sheer pressure in the

atmosphere makes one feel as if they're all yelling.

Their words are scarcely that though. They carry sound, sure, but they carry so much more too They

carry whole memories, whole schematics of rooms that construct themselves with every syllable.

All these beautiful sights render throughout the market as these nameless, faceless strangers live their

 lives, walking throughout spaces out of time and bathing in the endless color that fights the presence of

 those kind yellow lights. Once you enter, the market almost loses its shape, its form, and dissolves into

 the nearest thing you hear, as if you have passed beyond an event horizon that you never knew was

 there.

Time stands still, and there is only light.