Status Updates From The Little Girl Who Was Too...

I mean that our neighbours tend to astound in the presence of whatever has disappeared nowhere, because of their human essence; it inclines them to ruminate on the grass of the dead, which makes them imaginative. And the first sun of any religion, if I'm not mistaken, is always a corpse that moves.

...never to return, to stay forever on the road through the pine grove, between estate and village, to be the unobtrusive divinity of the distance that separates all things, the little fairy of the paths that lead nowhere.