to awaken on a morning full of yellowish light; to force your way through the half-shut window and, before you fall, to hover - arms extended, belly arched, legs curved backwards, like the figures on the bows of ships in old times. we must do nothing more than we are irresistably impelled to do, not even in the way of goodness. one breath dispels the limits of the hearth, then the waters of the wind run dry, and i am no longer certain of having heard anything except a mute call which i could readily dismiss, but whos meaning i would never understand unless i answered it at once. in this marvellous dimension, the soul, without leaving the place where the body to which it is tethered is situated, can cross the totality of space and time and come into the very presence of God.
