so sorry, but I am cross-eyed with tiredness. And for a little while he will babble, and in a little while longer he will wrest from the night a fitful sleep, all the while dreaming of a return to an old innocence, when children's pure clear laughter splashed like water-gems sparkling in the Sun, and happiness was inevitable.
After a little while, random spires of painful stone, pointy and jagged, will stab up into his dream, and he will ignore the first intrusion, then the second and the third, persuing the sparkling water-happiness between and around them until finally there is no more light for the shadows of the stone. Then he will let the last trickles of innocence recede and disappear again; again, until the glistening tide of another night returns.
sweet dreams.
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