Chapter 8: Jack’s Dream
The white blocks everything else out. Jack’s lost in a world of white. It isn’t until he pulls back a bit, away, like a camera taking a longer shot, that he realizes the white is snow. Not a gentle snowfall, but something like you’d see in Alaska dishing out one of its worst winter storms—a whiteout, they call it.
But as he moves farther back, he sees more and more. The flakes begin to separate and become distinct. At first there’s little dark space between them. But as he moves back—or up or away, he really isn’t sure of direction—the flakes become unique. Paradoxically, the farther he moves from the snowflakes, the more defined they become, until he can take in their breathtaking crystalline structure.
And then the magnification blurs and blurs, until at last t
