.“

    One eacctle flutter of t to sleep.

    ‘t one can be Adeline,“ took a striped tea to strips from it. Sed trips into tied t of tirred, te one around t of t.

    cil turned a glad and tender face to the gardener and spoke again.

    ‘t our age!“

    ears t misted her round brown eyes.

    across t  tness of ears pressed against his own fingers.

    Beneatrembling line of the babies were dreaming.

    It e ory of Isabelle and Cernoon and evening and for part of t I  over my desk, ory retelling itself in my ears s dictation. My pages : Miss inter’s oime to time my o t and I scribbled a note in t-one of voice or a gesture seemed to be part of tive itself.

    No docer’s voice  t s  ly  under roking s, if s,  seem t perturbed, but only blinked and continued to stare indifferently.

    ‘’s his name?“ I had asked.

    ‘Sly replied.

    At last in bed, I turned out t and closed my eyes. I could still feel t s from ing  yet ready to untie itself. t  of paper, lines of my o-tention. Unmarked, pristine, it gloing. It s, notes and questions.

    In t pencil and tco tions t penetrated my dro t tattoo Cer’s name etco ion self? Or  ill ted ao tten… Isabelle and Cs, ter’s palm rose into vieter Q for question, seared into human flesh.

    As I started to sleepe my questions, to expand. t. S engulfed me, until I realized ure of trepidation and  t I e interior of tory itself. eig long in Miss inter’s story, plotting its landscape, measuring its co