Now there's a big white cloud, as on all these days, all this untellable time.
What remains to be said is always a cloud, two clouds, or long hours of a sky
perfectly clear, a very clean, clear rectangle tacked up with pins on the wall of
my room. That was what I saw when I opened my eyes and dried them with my
fingers: the clear sky, and then a cloud that drifted in from the left, passed
gracefully and slowly across and disappeared on the right. And then another,
and for a change sometimes, everything gets grey, all one enormous cloud,
and suddenly the splotches of rain crackling down, for a long spell you can
see it raining over the picture, like a spell of weeping reversed, and
little by little, the frame becomes clear, perhaps the sun comes out, and again
the clouds begin to come, two at a time, three at a time. And the pigeons once
in a while, and a sparrow or two. |