Total darkness. A light.
I stare into the flame. There’s something satisfying in the way She dances. The way She’s reflected by all these mirrors around me. If I gave Her a name, She’d certainly be something between Christie and Lucy. But I don’t, for in some cases a name makes it harder. I don’t want it to be hard, this final, this ending. I want it to be nice and soft, like a train that guides Her to a better place, through corn fields, shimmering golden in the light of the sunset, through small villages and great cities, where She will be happy. I breath in. A blow.
Total darkness.
Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.
