It was like a talking to a memory. Kokabel Burning leaves on an autumn day, a sense of time passing, the veins in your wrists becoming more obvious with age. No one was ever really clear if it even understood . Kokabel It was Kokabel who talked to it, interpreted all that hooting and grinding; 'Music of the Spheres' indeed. Of all of them it had the least to lose and the least to gain. So many eyes; Kokabel it seemed like thousands of them. Perhaps on its long voyages in the reaches, it had seen so much, so many strange and different things that all change had come to seem relative. Whatever. It liked to travel. Kokabel