It is like a shadow of a tree on the pavement, a smeared and fuzzy feeling as if life has yet to unfold its riches however abundant or scarce. Nobody knows whose feeling it is, for it is but a foreshadow or premonition of a thought. Like a black hole that is being born out of some strange force, neither evil, nor benevolent.

Strange are the thoughts that envelope the hole. Strange is their origin. Seems like they are born out of these spheres somewhere over there on exoplanets or maybe even here upon this planet, but no one can tell exactly.

The thoughts and desires intertwine to make a fabric impermeable to the light but light can definitely enter. Once the light enters it lights up the darkness vastly and exposes a formless mass full of nameless creatures.