'Fate', she says once more using that word whose meaning he so little understands. His eyes follow hers to the sky, and he thinks, Still, it is as sacred in its own way to her as freedom to me. He rests a hand upon one of her knees and whispers, “I can accept what I do not understand, simply say what you feel you must.” His eyes move from the sky’s distant expansiveness to the nearness of her of breathing. ~ Yes, there is a certain sacredness about moments like these.
[ 04-01-2002, 06:05 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]
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