The silence—a silence with specific dimensions, a silence in four movements—haunted him. Could he ever make up for that?
Despair rose in him as he stood there with no place to go. Then he remembered about inaction and time and the tide that wanted to draw him back. He took a step and then another and soon he was walking home, entering the second half of his life.
Why, I’m a young man, he thought. I’m two hundred years younger than I was yesterday. I can do something with that.
What was necessary was to begin.
<<Contents>>
* * * *