Sublime

She herself did not seem quite real.

Easily, he slept; and as he slept, the woman in the photograph took her arm from the pastor’s waist, and crossed the parched lawn towards the camera. Her black skirts, thickly beaded at the hem, obscured the view of Bethesda; then her fine and muddied boots came over the frame, and were first set squarely on the table, then one by one on the floor:

consumed. If possible, the room was slightly darker than the night she had come in from and a small, single candle on every table stood in place of the stars.

But he has made her happy in the only place where people really live, the few-second-wide window of Now.

Melissa

hallowed

Paradise Lost I could only remember it was about

collogue.