The clock ticks. The two hands are convoys marching through a desert. The black bars on the clock face are green oases. The long hand has marched ahead to find water. The other, painfully stumbles among hot stones in the desert. It will die in the desert.

“De vreme ce aparițiile noastre, adică partea din noi care apare, sunt atât de t…”

“she read, and so reading she was ascending, she felt, on to the top, on to the …”

“I cannot remember my past, my nose, or the colour of my eyes,or what my general…”

“I sincerely hope I’ll never fathom you. You’re mystical, serene, intriguing; yo…”