The silence in this part of the church -- it's almost palpable. All the shifting matter…

Seems unfair to black. I like black, look at it!

Sometimes an encounter with an opposing aesthetic is required for one to truly grow into one's tastes and preferences.

Sounds complicated.

It would likely be easier to explain with a hands-on demonstration. Alas!

Why only Revacholian?

Revachol was an overwhelmingly colourful place back then. They made most of the world's dyes here.

It's like you see your own face reflected back at you in the vanishing geometry -- a strange, alien image that's supposed to be you.

Try to make out something -- anything.

There's nothing. You're dizzy and disoriented as you see dark and more dark -- rising...

"Officer, what are you looking at?" He follows your gaze, attempting to see whatever it is that you are seeing.

What if I don't want to know what's up there?

The silence, the darkness -- they've enveloped you, as in a cocoon. You cannot move anymore.

Relax. It'll be okay.

Look up into the bell tower.

Yell as loud as you can.

Your voice is barely audible -- not a howl, but the softest of whimpers.

It's unnerving.

How do I know what the pale sounds like?

From recordings. Of the far pale. You've heard them. We all have.