On the edge of the leaf a line of light, of yellow light born over the green escaped over the side catch it with a finger and then a hand he brought it up to his eye and put it through, bouncing on the ground the uneven road cracked the direction and he followed into the garden transparent and shiny to the sun.

   On the side of the eye, out of the corner bent over he saw the crooked bones pulled and pushed down toward the ground, the face had never seen the sky. An old woman dried leaves scattered in the air and blew around her feet shuffled past walking on his own, the soles stuck to the ground rubbing as she walked against the stones.