Soft grey clouds are suspended in the morning sky, and seem to glow as the sun begins to rise. Somewhere in the distance, among the the willow trees, a bird sings. But despite its song, the clearing is quiet as the grasses rustle lightly in the faint autumn wind. Enclosed by swaying willow leaves, the glade is timeless. It exists in a perpetual “yesterday” when there was no sorrow, no joy, only sunlight and the fragrance of fallen leaves. The center of the clearing is silent, motionless, the only place that defies the constancy of change. The air spirals around this center, drawn to its stillness but unable to pass through the veil which separates present and past, time and memory. Somewhere in the distance, another bird sings, but the center remains silent.


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