Now I sail on dawn’s canopy of light. The provinces and the songs of the pedestrian shopping street. I would like to give you all my diamonds. We were still, we were still quivering, quivering down to the smallest details. I get the day going, writing quietly. Back in the past in loneliness I stretched out every sentence so it could slide across the weeks. In the night a distant voice had almost fallen asleep. I let a random book lie, shining. Glass millions of years old in the luminous desert.