I need to write more.
Black like the night, and tired like a soul, wandering, and wondering too long, but breathless, for whence breath was given, hence it has gone, hither walk, thence depart, thither remain until some recompense can be made, and a miracle before mine eyes. Holding, holding, holding, stand and stand and stand, breathing breathing, breathing, and reading faces as they walk. Walk. Walk.
