Your diamonds shine in my mouth. It was not the fields I came from. We are the delicate, speaking distantly to the quiet. The fire. It is always this slow gaze. The air and the songs of the Earth. Coloured the words gentle. The lights lighted. Later, one of the following nights, as we followed each other down through each our idea of it, I could no longer hide the words, the sentences, the images. The books rested around the coffee.