in a middle of a room stands a suicide snifling a Paper rose smiling to a self somewhere it is Spring and sometimes people are in real; imagine somewhere real flowers, but I can't imagine real flowers for if I could, they would somehow not Be real" (so he smiles smiling) "but I will not everywhere be real to you in a moment" The is blond with small hands "& everything is easier than I had guessed everything would be; even remembering the way who Looked at whom first, anyhow dancing" (a moon swims out of a cloud a clock strikes midnight a finger pulls a trigger a bird flies into a mirror)