Only rarely do I get in the zone. Today, however, I got in, and almost stayed in as well. I walked a huge flower in the snow for you, so it became snow, flower. I looked at it from above, even though I knew it would be hard to find my way back in time. As I walked, suddenly you strolled beside me in the whiteness. You were holding my hand. Along the way we saw a raven and a dead dog, the dog's head had already been half eaten by the foxes. “Listen to the silence”, I whispered, and you listened. Later I found a letter in my pocket which read, it’s the angels who are perfect and not us, the flawless. I recognized it was the black priest’s handwriting. When we got out of the zone, at the end of the road stood our bike that I had long thought to be lost.
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