A light, transparent early morning dream ran down my back with a chill, made me dizzy. A flight or a slow fall to your favorite city, past salt-gritted walls and open windows. So slow that it seems that you can hear conversations coming from these windows and the chiming of dishes. What long shadows in the morning, they slide along the stucco cornices, jump through the drainpipes and break into the sky. The huge, deep sky swings open to meet, explodes with a column of spray and reunites overhead. The swinging abyss.