Along the track the wires are humming in bursts of code like far-off drums.... Fathering the message: further up the line someone`s shouting down the passage of time. The corridor restrains the window, no view without the eye within.... bold upon the threshold but holding on the line we`re shouting down the passage of time. Relatives speak on the phone, on the train, talking before they have thought to explain; Voices pitched wildly on tracks in the night can`t pick the pace up - Oh let there be light! How light becomes the soul! You know yourself the centre of attention, You see yourself the locus of event... I`m sorry if it`s painful quarrying the line, stage centre, shouting down the passage of time. The corridor retains it`s shadows, it`s secrets compartmentalised.... damping down on ambience, damp the teeth and grind, shouting down the passage of time! What`s there to see or make clear? What`s there to know when the voice is right here? What`s there to promise or vow? What`s to believe when the time is right now? Relatives spoke on the phone, on the train, talking before they had sought to retain; Voices projected, spears in mid-flight, frozen forever... Oh let there be light!
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