This is still my stuff.

Setting aside (as I'm wont, daily, hourly, even minutely, to do) the myriad unresolved complexities already established regarding the possibility or otherwise of any form of genuine mental continuity in the face of constant molecular change, ‘my’ mind often wanders (insofar as it may, within such tortuous constraints), on engaging with cosmic phenomena, over the seemingly innumerable moments of human experience prior to our own - yes, even across the glassy, impenetrable sea of macro-chronology - to an era in which that collection of thought-atoms ‘our’ species (go on, indulge me) granted itself the conceit of including within the body of those it considered elevated to the canonical was sufficiently small in comparison to our contemporary equivalent that they'd look up at the moon and just be like "WOOOAH". Given this same species’ seemingly preternatural disposition towards supernaturalisation of the inexplicable, what ghastly, divine horrrors might have loped across the under-developed primeval cognitive synapses of those complete loonatrons if they'd seen »this«?

I mean, OK, I'm a 21st-century guy, I ‘know’ about penicillin and wasabi, nanotechnology and relativity, ultimate reality and cats that don't exist (well, I've heard of some of those things, anyway), and frankly, when I cast my gaze up to the majestic splendour of the firmament and see wiggly, squirly, loony shit like this, well, I just don't know what to think any more. Come on, the moon's not supposed to be red, for a start, and it's »DEFINITELY« not supposed to dance like a crazy spaniel frantically dribbling spaghetti out of its ears. Imagine what those poor buggers would have thought.

Bloody sky, I don't know.