I mentioned alpine violets and a breadfruit tree, among the captives I saw my own vision of God. Like the ghost of a murdered convict frozen in amber, the light hurt my eyes. I was sitting on broken bricks surrounded by rotten coffins, God's immense mercy on me. Brass and bodies were strewn everywhere, a river of black blood through this entire century, but I live, I live like a living creature that no longer breathes.
I have been a living, bright fire and bad omen since the first river felt the light of the first day, the brightness in a mournful cloud that touches the ground, the Cherub and Seraphim with me, the terrible storms and lightning, the God of all things above. My smile can be bitter, sorrowful and pensive. Flowers wilt, torches burn into sad eyes, ants shrivel and rain dissolves. Behold the likeness of people, faces of lions, faces of eagles, the hands and wings of morning doves, the feet of a calf, bodies like empty chimneys, souls that are cruel and dreadful, souls that are painful to look at.