Sunlight through the window traveling across the floor. Moonlight from the same window, grazing the framed watercolor of the Spanish cathedral. Can we say that sunlight moves with wings, and moonlight as if on the back of a snail? The wings of the rooks spread and folded, spread and folded, before blending into the dusk, when the girls, coming out of prep, yawned their elegant yawns—it was in these gestures that their bodies moved away from girlhood, waiting for real life to begin.
