081413 #worm Hanad walks along the spook-planked highway. He hovers on it, over the marsh, between the whickering weeds. The clouds part their lips, close their eyes. The old boardwalk, settling into a state of disrepair--no one comes here anymore. It curves in and among the shady glades. A fawn watches Hanad pass. The boardwalk ends at the edge of a tiny lake. There are clouds of tiny green leaves that need no dirt. There is a spunky lake smell. Narrow fish circulate darkly in their tangential world. The moon shows through ragged fissures in the clouds. The boardwalk turns into a little, square dock. Hanad kneels at the edge; curtsies to the goddess of the lake.