​The sun, winsome and dismal, hung by taught lines, [aside] the sun was not so light as I remember.
 Stared at me through its fiery eye. Like a vulture whose breath I could feel on my back.
I burst through the window on my steel haunches, a songbird of hell lonely and kneading the chest of a lesser god! My fingernails were dirty with the ashes of Cossacks, my brow wet with the blood of tears. I took bloody shits where no one would find them. Brushed my teeth with branches of frozen pine. Under my feet, still, lay freckles the earth had grown.
She appeared like the sting of beetles. Shining like a newborn child. Her face, with all the beauty of my own. Her charm, like standing before myself.