Dictum: After great distances oleander and rose. The rubble of earth’s other air—where the hummingbird flies in the shadow of the hawk. And through each wall, the opening earth of August, like a stone that cracks this wall of sun. Mountains. And then the lights of the town beyond the mountain. The town that lies on the other side of light. We dream that we do not dream. We wake in the hours of sleep and sleep through the silence that stands over us. Summer keeps its promise by breaking it.
Paul Auster.
