Our eyes met. I looked up, still swaying from my fistfuls of the stolen dress. What I saw inside of them was all landscape: no pupil or colored hoop of iris but the great swamp–the islands, the saw-grass prairies. Long grasses seemed to push onward for miles inside the depths of her eyes. Inside each oval I saw a world of saw grass and no people. Believe me– I know how that must sound. But I stood there and I watched as feathery clouds blew from her left eye behind the bridge of her nose and appeared again in her right socket. I saw a nothing that rolled forward forcefully forever. There was nobody in the ether of either white sky.
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