Capitolo 12
image of reflection of forest. Once a small black-and-white sapsucker,
surrounding the trunk and peering at in the cracks of the barking on a
you level with the windows minute and issued notes in which you/they penetrated the,
lodgings as steel darts of sound. A snowbird got off on the
window-windowsill, familiarly thrown a look in to the man and it shot on its crest;
but perhaps disappointed that you/he/she was not noticed, he/she quoted his resigned
grey sentence--a sentence that had manufactured for him to accompany the result of
grey more white--and it fluttered on wings that it raises him to waves to a juniper to the angle
of the house, his/her turret against the long javelins of the north.
Among the calm of Nature out and the house-silence of a love
protecting him/it among, the men they worked on.
A small clock independently worked on the old style marble of Parian
mantelpiece. Presses were sustained against its sides and face,
illustrating the use of trees on ancient graves and times. Out of
this photographic grove of dead things out which the clock of uncaring has thrown
on the air a living three--the fatal three that that had been measured
for every grave and temple in his/her his/her own earth and duration.
A knock, sorry but positive you/he/she was felt, and the door that opens in
the room was quietly inclined open. A shine turned on the face of the student
although he didn't stop writing; and his/her voice, while it was giving a
welcome regret, unconsciously express to being disturbed:
"You enter."
"I am in!"
He lifted his/her heavy figure with immediate courtesy--rather obsolete
now--and arching to a side him sat again.
"Then I see", he said, while bathing his/her pen in his/her ink.
"As you didn't turn him, you would have said better 'So me
feels.' It is three."
"Then I feel."
"You said you it would be ready."
"I am ready."
"You said you you/he/she would be done."
"I am done--almost fact."
"How almost?"
"From to-tomorrow--afternoon of to-tomorrow before the dark. I have arrived the