“we are dumb trees, reaching up in the night, imploring we know not what,” said the sorrowful bush.
it is true when you are by yourself and you think about life, it is always sad. all that excitement and so on has a way of suddenly leaving you, and it’s as though, in the silence, somebody called your name, and you heard your name for the first time.
“yes, i’m here. i’m beryl. who wants me?”
“let me come.”