I cannot say to you, This is where it began. A circle has no starting point. There are the secrets I have kept. He encircles me. There is no beginning or end, and time is the lie the mirror tells us. These are the secrets. The child in the tattered hat and the boy in the labyrinth and the man beside the ash barrel circle without beginning, without end. It is hard, he told me once, hard to think about those things we do not think about.
