Sometimes, my soul returned as a baptism of your eyes. That is your slow footprint. Slow beauty. Marble mirrors. Mirrors waiting with waiting for the stone. They leave me with you for a while, just a short time. In which I think in the early morning. A silence in winter fur. Un the time has passed. Survive by waiting. Time thief. I write to you from his window like a colorful parrot that speaks only of life.