The priest was waiting in my cell. It was strange to find him there. The moment the handcuffs were taken off he stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
Mother had come home to die. She knew there was no hope left so she requested to be among us all before she went. It didn’t last long, maybe a week or so.
'Vague images of grief and tragedy flickered in his mind. Somewhere a butterfly was flying out to sea: lost. La Fontaine’s duck had loved the white hen...
The dawn came, but no day. In the grey sky a red sun appeared, a dim red circle that gave little light, like dusk; and as the day advanced, the day slipped back into darkness...