Scattered across the grey barren landscape were humans, plotted in no particular order but beaming brightly like candles in the dark. No time was known in this liminal zone, no animal moved or leaf waved in the wind, the stars themselves stayed where they shined in the great open and silent sky. The moon maintained its eternal pose as a great stone sentinel, keeping watch over this vast expanse of land eroded by an unknown quality, withered in part, no doubt, whilst facing the eternal silence of the universe.
The soil, though once having been brown and moist, had long since became a grey dust, clinging to the face of the rock in a last desperate embrace. Decaying and desiccated roots lay scattered amidst this sorry soil; no fresh green tendrils or flowers were to be found. Water did not run or gather, did not leak into streams or flow into lakes, did not create great seas of tumbling waves and salt water sprays. What water did exist existed as shallow brown pools, bitter to the taste and dead to the arena of life.
How humans survived in such a landscape was not an easy question to answer, but they did. Did they thrive? No, they survived.