A monarch butterfly stopped at the window. It moved its wings slowly up and down and left again.
He moved the brush over the window and painted another one. The texture of the butterfly was not quite the real one and as it flew, it changed the texture of the sky.
The butterfly moved through the air turning into paint the rest of reality and he watched behind the window as it became a canvas.
He grabbed the window after a few hours and the butterfly batted its wings one more time before freezing into the painting.
With a match on one of the corners, the window lit on fire slowly from one corner to the other. And as it did, the painting in the window became glass stained.
The colours changed and the texture also.
He then went out on his boat and put the glass underwater as the boat moved. The colours of the painting started to leave a trail where they passed by.
The trail started to grow and change as the gas creaked.
He went around in a circle and by the time he was back to the beginning, the growing glass had started to make a structure.
A cathedral-like building floated in the middle of the lake. Unfinished and building on itself.
The glass kept growing, creaking and even breaking in some parts to make space and structure.
As the day started to end the building had finished growing and the last ray of light hit the top of the building right on time.
The light bounced from every corner of the building and in the middle, it drew a circle with runners around it.
He sat in the middle and read the runners out loud. His voice echoed through the cathedral up to the highest point.
As the echo came back the glass started to crumble on itself, to fold and bend and break.
Looking at the first star in the night sky he read the runes again as everything around him crumbled.
The runes in the circle started to move into his hand. Because they were light, the transition from the ground to the hand left burns wherever the runes moved through to get in position. The middle of the palm of his hand.
He stepped onto the boat again as the floor of the cathedral started to crumble as well. All the glass became a jewel that he grabbed with the other hand as he looked back at the star.
Holding the jewel and pointing his palm to the star he repeated the runes one last time.
The ray of light caught before the day ended came out of his hand and reached the star. Carefully he started wrapping his fingers around the ray of light and pulling something heavy.
A knot of light in the middle of the ray started to get closer. He pulled it until it was very close to his hand, then put the jewel between the knot and the star and let go so that the knot would get trapped inside the jewel.
Back at the house, he put the jewel in front of a candle and after looking for years for the right one, a cherished memory almost forgotten.