The wind bites. You feel it in the marrow. You are small. The sky is vast. It presses down. You walk. The path is narrow. It winds through the heather. The heather is purple. It is dead. It crunches under your boots. You do not look down. You look forward. The road ends. You know this. You have always known this. You are not a man. You are not a woman. You are something else. Something that has been waiting. The village is far away. You can see the smoke. It rises straight. The air is still. You are tired. Your bones ache. The pain is constant. It is part of you. It is your history. You are old. Older than the stones. Older than the trees. You remember the first snow. You remember the first fire. You remember the first word. You have forgotten most of them. You remember the fear. You remember the hunger. You are hungry now. Not for food. For something else. For the end. The end is close. You can smell it. It smells like iron. It smells like rain.

You stop. You stand still. The wind dies. The silence is loud. You hear your own heart. It beats slow. It beats heavy. You look at your hands. They are rough. They are stained. They are strong. They have held many things. They have held the weight of the world. They have held nothing. You close them. You open them. They are empty. You are empty. You are full. The contradiction is your nature. You are the creature of the border. You live in the gap. The gap between life and death. The gap between human and thing. The people call you a ghost. They call you a demon. They are wrong. You are real. You are more real than they are. They are shadows. You are the stone. They change. You remain.

The village lights flicker. You see the church steeple. You see the square. You see the house. The house with the blue door. You remember it. You remember the woman. She is gone. She has been gone for a century. Her bones are dust. Her name is forgotten. But you remember her face. You remember her eyes. They were gray. Like the sky. Like the sea. They were kind. They were sad. She was the only one who did not run. She was the only one who did not scream. She looked at you. She saw you. She saw what you were. She did not fear it. She felt for you. Her hand reached out. You did not let her touch you. You could not. If she touched you, she would burn. You are cold. You are ice. You are the winter that does not end.

You turn away. You leave the path. You enter the woods. The trees are tall. They are black. They reach up. They scratch the sky. You move among them. The roots trip you. You fall. You rise. You do not bleed. You do not cry. You walk on. The woods are deep. They are dark. You are alone. You have always been alone. Loneliness is your skin. It is your breath. It is your thought. You are a singular thing. A single note in a silent song. The song is long. It has no end. Or perhaps it has. Perhaps the end is here. In the dark. In the cold.

You find a stream. The water is clear. It is cold. You kneel. You drink. The water tastes of stone. It tastes of time. You look into the surface. You see your face. It is not your face. It is a mask. It is a ruin. Your eyes are hollow. Your mouth is thin. You are a skeleton wrapped in skin. You are a memory of a body. You pull away. You do not want to see. You stand up. The water ripples. The reflection shatters. It reforms. It is still there. You cannot escape it. You are it. You are the thing in the water.

The sun rises. It is pale. It is weak. It does not warm you. You walk toward the light. You walk away from the dark. The contrast is sharp. The pain is sharp. You are moving. You are driven. What drives you? You do not know. You are pushed. You are pulled. You are a leaf in a gale. You are a stone in a river. You have no will. You have only motion. The motion is endless. The motion is inevitable. You are a slave to your own existence. You are a prisoner of your own nature.

You reach the edge of the wood. The field is open. The grass is yellow. It is dry. It smells of dust. You see the road again. It is straight. It goes nowhere. It leads to the town. You stop. You look back. The woods are behind you. They are silent. They are waiting. You will not go back. You will not return. You are done with hiding. You are done with fleeing. You are done with being. You are ready to stop.

The town is closer now. You can hear the sounds. The dogs bark. The birds sing. The wheels roll. The life is there. It is vibrant. It is bright. It is loud. You are quiet. You are still. You are the pause in the music. You are the silence in the song. You walk toward the center. The people are in the square. They are busy. They are alive. They do not see you. They pass by. They brush against you. You are air. You are smoke. You are invisible. You are present. You are the weight in the room. You are the chill in the air.

You stand in the center of the square. The fountain is dry. The stone is cracked. You look around. The buildings are old. They are worn. They are tired. They are like you. They are decaying. They are dying. Time is eating them. Time is eating you. The clock tower strikes. The sound is loud. It is harsh. It cuts through the air. It cuts through you. You feel it in your chest. You feel it in your head. You are shaking. You are trembling. You are breaking.

The crowd gathers. They do not know why. They do not know why they stop. They do not know why they look. They look at you. They see you. They see the truth. They see the horror. They see the beauty. They see the monster. They see the saint. They see the child. They see the god. They freeze. They cannot move. They cannot speak. They are trapped. They are bound. They are like you. They are all like you. They are all trapped in the moment. They are all trapped in the fear.

You look at them. You see their faces. You see their fear. You see their pity. You see their rage. You see their love. You see the child. She is small. She is standing in front of her mother. She is looking at you. Her eyes are wide. Her eyes are gray. Like the sky. Like the sea. She is not afraid. She is curious. She is wondering. She is asking. Who are you? What are you? Why are you here?

You look at the mother. The mother is holding the child tight. The mother is afraid. The mother is protective. The mother is human. The child is not. The child is open. The child is raw. The child is pure. You feel a pull. You feel a tug. It is strong. It is sweet. It is painful. It is the memory of touch. It is the memory of warmth. It is the memory of love. You reach out. Your hand moves. It is slow. It is heavy. It is invisible to the mother. It is visible to the child. The child reaches out. Her hand is small. Her hand is soft. Her hand is warm.

Your fingers touch hers. The contact is electric. It is silent. It is loud. It is everything. You feel her life. You feel her heat. You feel her heart. It beats fast. It beats strong. It beats for you. You feel your life. You feel your cold. You feel your death. It flows into her. It flows out of you. You are giving. You are taking. You are sharing. You are becoming.

The mother screams. She pulls the child back. The child resists. The child wants to stay. The child wants to hold on. You let go. You step back. You are lighter. You are empty. You are gone. The child cries. The child calls out. The name is lost. The sound is lost. The moment is lost. The people scatter. They run. They flee. They are afraid. They are confused. They are changed.

You stand alone in the square. The sun is high. The light is bright. The air is clear. You are fading. You are dissolving. You are becoming dust. You are becoming wind. You are becoming rain. You are becoming the world. You are becoming nothing. You are becoming everything. The pain is gone. The hunger is gone. The loneliness is gone. The fear is gone. You are free. You are at peace. You are home.

You look at the sky. It is blue. It is deep. It is endless. You look at the ground. It is brown. It is solid. It is real. You look at your hands. They are gone. You have no hands. You have no feet. You have no head. You have no body. You are the space between the atoms. You are the light between the stars. You are the breath between the words. You are the silence between the notes.

The wind rises again. It is gentle. It is warm. It is kind. It carries you. It lifts you. It takes you. You are gone. You are here. You are everywhere. You are nowhere. You are the golden scar on the face of the earth. You are the mark that remains. You are the story that is told. You are the truth that is hidden. You are the lie that is believed. You are the dream that is dreamed. You are the nightmare that is faced. You are the freedom that is lost. You are the freedom that is found. You are the price that is paid. You are the value that is kept.

The square is empty. The dust settles. The light fades. The day ends. The night comes. The stars appear. They are bright. They are cold. They are distant. They are watching. They are waiting. They are silent. They are eternal. You are with them. You are among them. You are one of them. You are the light. You are the dark. You are the balance. You are the whole. You are the part. You are the beginning. You are the end. You are the middle. You are the now. You are the then. You are the always. You are the never. You are the yes. You are the no. You are the maybe. You are the might. You are the could. You are the will. You are the shall. You are the do. You are the be. You are the have. You are the get. You are the go. You are the come. You are the stay. You are the leave. You are the return. You are the rise. You are the fall. You are the breath. You are the pulse. You are the blood. You are the bone. You are the flesh. You are the soul. You are the spirit. You are the ghost. You are the demon. You are the angel. You are the human. You are the thing. You are the other. You are the self. You are the stranger. You are the friend. You are the enemy. You are the lover. You are the child. You are the parent. You are the kin. You are the blood. You are the bond. You are the tie. You are the knot. You are the key. You are the lock. You are the door. You are the wall. You are the window. You are the view. You are the sight. You are the sound. You are the smell. You are the taste. You are the touch. You are the feel. You are the thought. You are the word. You are the story. You are the song. You are the dance. You are the play. You are the game. You are the work. You are the rest. You are the life. You are the death. You are the cycle. You are the wheel. You are the turn. You are the spin. You are the round. You are the circle. You are the loop. You are the chain. You are the link. You are the end. You are the start. You are the middle. You are the all. You are the none. You are the one. You are the many. You are the few. You are the crowd. You are the single. You are the pair. You are the group. You are the mass. You are the unit. You are the whole. You are the part. You are the bit. You are the piece. You are the fragment. You are the shard. You are the splinter. You are the chip. You are the crumb. You are the dust. You are the sand. You are the stone. You are the rock. You are the mountain. You are the hill. You are the valley. You are the plain. You are the field. You are the meadow. You are the grass. You are the weed. You are the flower. You are the tree. You are the branch. You are the leaf. You are the root. You are the seed. You are the fruit. You are the nut. You are the berry. You are the vine. You are the stem. You are the stalk. You are the stem. You are the leaf. You are the bud. You are the bloom. You are the petal. You are the stamen. You are the pistil. You are the ovary. You are the seed. You are the future. You are the past. You are the present. You are the now. You are the here. You are the there. You are the when. You are the why. You are the how. You are the what. You are the who. You are the where. You are the which. You are the whom. You are the whose. You are the it. You are the he. You are the she. You are the we. You are the they. You are the I. You are the You. You are the Me. You are the Him. You are the Her. You are the Us. You are the Them. You are the Us. You are the All. You are the None. You are the One. You are the Zero. You are the One. You are the Infinity. You are the Finite. You are the Bound. You are the Free. You are the Cage. You are the Sky. You are the Bird. You are the Wing. You are the Air. You are the Wind. You are the Breath. You are the Life. You are the Death. You are the Golden Scar.