Sayu sometimes wonders how it would be to not be. Sayu wonders how it would be to be music, notes, waves through the air. A vibration, a culmination. Sound.
How not to be material, to be substanceless. There're always fleeting, those thoughts, they are in the back of her mind, like the cobweb in the corner. Unnoticed but in the light of things.
They are a part of her, the web sweeps through her, all of her, collecting dust. From time to time they resurface. She imagines that she can grasp a translucent tread, and pull and pull into eternity.
And sometimes she thinks of her brother. The string is taught then, like steel wire, cords of hard aching web. The spider that built them. She can see him in her mind sewing, needle going up and down, up and down.
The stitches are forever intact, like imprints in asphalt. And Light is dead.
Sayu likes to think that he is sound now. Likes to pretend he is a thousand notes flying in the wind. Likes to think he is in every being and in every rustle and every chime.
Sayu sometimes wonders how it would be to not be. But most often, when cobweb stays cobweb, Sayu thinks about on how it would be to be.