I used to wonder if there was some kind of dividing line that separated sky and space. I know now that there is a surface to the sky, made of glass and spread thinly over the Earth, encasing it like a brilliant and sparkling marble. It shines all green and blue and jewel-like, and when the sun hits it just right, a fingerprint appears. Sometimes I wonder how long it has been there, invisible and unnoticed. It is growing bigger, and now when I look up to the stars, the universe is slightly distorted. It’s as if a filtered lens has altered the way I see. Tiny pinpricks have grown into huge balls of light, and there are halos everywhere. Everything is spinning, and my world is streaked with Hazel and Blue.