Nothing was as it should be. His world spun and dove, turning itself inside out before reassembling in crooked waves. Fresco's whole world ended and began all at the same time.
There were moments when everything stood still and he could feel the universe around him, floating in the instant, the clarity of who he was and why he existed as poignant as it was painful.
And then there were terrifying and electrifying spurts of life in fast-forward as he moved out and around himself and others so quickly details were lost in a blur of motion.
In any scraps of rational time he recovered, Fresco understood none of it was real. What they were doing to his mind created these things and presented them to him for his rejection or approval. But while he was in them everything was so crystal clear an
