Now the flesh arranges itself differently. I'm a cloud, congealed around a center object, the shape of a pear, which is hard and more real than I am and glows red within its translucent wrapping. Inside it is a space, huge as the sky at night and dark and curved like that, though black-red rather than black. Pinpoints of light swell, sparkle, burst and shrivel within it, countless as stars. Every month there is a moon, gigantic, round, heavy, an omen.
The narrator describes a transformation, identifying as a cloud enveloping a solid, pear-shaped core. This core represents something more substantial and real, radiating a vibrant inner glow. The imagery conveys a sense of fragility contrasted with the solidity and brightness of the core, emphasizing a juxtaposition between the ethereal and the tangible.
Within this core lies an expansive dark space, reminiscent of a night sky, filled with swirling lights that evoke the beauty and transient nature of stars. The presence of a massive, looming moon each month adds a sense of foreboding and significance, suggesting that even amidst uncertainty, there are elements that remain constant and impactful.
