A violet sky never goes unnoticed. It feels dangerous, a warning at the end of line. A line doesn’t point to a thing. It is the interaction between two things, how they rub up against each other, until you can’t tell the difference. The line keeps the entire universe from falling apart into a blob of jelly. It’s hard to cross it when you’re looking. But by now, you’ve crossed many and didn’t realize until you were on the other side. At the end of the world, you once imagined the soundtrack a swooping eerie silence, no birds or guns left. Now you could go for heavy metal or upbeat disco-synth pop.