1. I am only six years old. I am surrounded by some women.

They spout about a lot of things and

they laugh. I am lying on the sofa. I am drowsy. Their voices make me sway. I feel as if i am inside
a snug, yet fuzzy cocoon. There is no such joy (afterglow). And I wish this joy would never end. In
my dream I slip farther through a colourful scented hallway. Ten mothers are gathered all around
me. Their ladylike watch is beyond comparison.
2. The winter loneliness , when the world is muted, when everything is glassy and ice-capped. You
are blistering deep into the cold. Your loneliness is blistering. You open your mouth to the
snowflakes, which are moving into drifts above you. Your friends spring up to your mind and you
remember them aweingly (delighfully), without any desire to find them, without any desire to be
found. The remoteness turns them into good and pure people. You have a book in your hands
and you don t open it. You look through a wide booklist and you know that you will never find
these books and you feel bad for that. You draw your knees up to the chest. You watch the
twinkly lights upon the Christamas tree and you start shimmering on the inside.