“This is the solstice, the still pointof the sun, its cusp and midnight,the year’s thresholdand unlocking, where the pastlets go of and becomes the future;the place of caught breath, the doorof a vanished house left ajar.”
"Winter mornings are made of steel; they have a metallic taste and sharp edges. On a Wednesday in January, at seven in the morning, it's plain to see that the world was not made for Man, and definitel