A Profound Gloom Prevails On A Bright Afternoon

A Suffering Nightingale Who Was Losing Its Blood Gave Birth To A Rose

...And Then Everything Was Beautiful Again

Tiny Beings Of Pure Light Emerge One By One

In The Face Of Something Unspeakable They Waited With A Strange Equanimity

I Was Life, Behind Me There Is Nothing

Magic Is A Rare And Fleeting Phenomenon

To Believe Without Seeing