“I can take you there,” he told me after looking me up and down. As if he had to ensure I was worthy of such a place first. “But it’s unlike anywhere you’ve ever been before. Think of the last time you looked up at the moon. Know that color? Know the spots of that orb? And how sometimes it shines down onto a lamp-post, or a sidewalk? Think of how that color, that exact color would interact with a shadow, and you have the ambiance of this place. What would such a thing, the moon, smell like? Not known to me. But this place, I can tell you, smells like stone. Cold, hard stone. The type of cut stone that makes your nose itch, dry. Real dry. And what sounds are made on the moon? Again, not sure. Not known to me. But here, in this place, there are sounds like chittering, chattering. Teeth knocking in infected gums, ready to fall out. Rattling.”

I took his hand and followed.