The World Spins Wildly

The kerosene sputters and the wind tormenting the leaves wakes you from your dusty slumber. Where is the moon? The night feels lost to time, and the spin of the world becomes so violent that it is all you can do to keep yourself from being blown away down through the copse. Up the hill, a night express train charges past, and the sound is comforting. When the first ocean-sized, invisible drops begin to fall, you sit leaned back against a tree that groans down into its roots and wait meditatively, apprehensively, for the world to right itself again.