...

The dream slumbers in the early discussions which had once seemed to open into a fiery pit of innocence. Fate would be hers.


New York in simplicity, a prosperous and yet lavish society. Slow-moving people.


Sensitive souls in those days, like muted keyboards in this compact society.


Her hair, her eyes, her cheekbones, she painted, so that it looked and lay smoothly.


Darling it's grey, but people said you understood what happened.


You look as if you had seen a ghost - an army of ghosts. She drew a deep breath, the girl shook her head, "tell me what it is".


But it was different with you cried the girl.