From marching ice-crystals, we suddenly shift to a pan upwards, across the hanging 石 of a 洞くつ crystal-hive. The entire 洞くつ石 has the 色 of wax. Or those soft contact lenses you took up, the gift given you by the strange optometrist you met in the subway... they're not plastic, but wax, softly melting now across the 表面 of your 目 (you can wash it off, but you may not even notice the change, or you might like the change, or the thoughts and feelings that come with it).
