is life a desperate flight through downfall of alien meteorstones who is hit and who's not is just a question of fate and fluke? randomly distributed footrace in a deserted world down on the ground knees a lonely shape right in the dust of a salt lake plain gazing at his palms with eyes open wide and something has happened who am I what can do who am I what have I done down on the ground of a giant maelstrom driven by powers unknown to us are built up the lodges of fragile existence danger of flooding that buries us fine tared equilibrium one tick to destabilize last figure's racing through burning hail runs for his life on a foreign moon awakens to chances not to be struck he was one out of thousands