December 18th, 2002 - 8:29 a.m.

This morning.

Outside, dawn is breaking loose, rendering candle light redundant.

Fond and in love.

There are hot embers of glowing ash dripping off the lampposts, the hung wires. Embers falling off arbres like autumn leaves.

And for a second the walls disappear. The rustling sounds of growth. The floor impersonating a waterfall. Again. This time calm; no sense of urgency in sight.

"Land, yonder." claims a voice, unfamiliar.

Then, silence. Irrevocably perfect silence.

And the feet feel as if they have rooted, the ends of hair about to leaf. Planting firmly.

Will stay here, and glow with the buzz of morning.

N.

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