WL -- tiny particles--under the sun

Amy searched online for internet junkies in Berkeley, for anyone who might have seen traces of Anna on the internet. Late at night, she thought she saw Anna's picture on an ad at the top of Dogpile--but she had clicked on a link before the entire picture had loaded. When she turned back, the ad merely offered to reserve her domain name forever.

She spent hours on the MOOlano New Cafe, asking Berkeley students if they had seen Anna in the flesh. She was tall, about 5 feet 8 inches. Black sunglasses riding high on her head through long flowing black hair, cut evenly just above her waist. Her face always a perfect mask of Lancome-- black eyeliner, porcelain face, light blush, and red lips. Thin eyebrows, thin cheeks. Black curved eyes that look deep, sweeping almost into her ears.

She covers herself in gold --gold loop earrings, woven like spiderwebs from a distance; gold necklace with a spun gold dreamweavers dropping into her breasts. She never travelled without her macintosh powerbook in a black leather briefcase.

She was taking Chemistry 120--did they know anyone in that class? Perhaps they had seen her there--she sat in the back row nearest the window. Smallish handwriting, very clear notes. Detailed notes in a perfect outline form. Or maybe in a study session, working out the problems a full half second before anyone else. Or in a coffee shop--her favorite was a raspberry double latte. She'd sit by the window, knowing how to trick the light into caressing her pale gold skin.

No, they all said. They had never seen Anna's gold figure shining under the sun.

empty atoms / thicken / into crowds / too trifling / to be constrained / sufficient / for shadows / under the sun

the word is / the sound / of water / dripping from/ ancient symbols / tiny particles / of merging / realities