How strange that I should have lived all this time & died so little! We'll practice it yet, that candying o'er, but not tonight, I think, no not tonight. At six, I woke. At half past ten, a small white box disgorged a gray velvet tongue, which uttered a bracelet of black pearls. At noon, they plied me with lemon sorbet & champagne tinct with lavender syrup & rose water. By two, I was a little giddy with pleasaunce--calm by three, & a little mono no aware. By four, the clouds had knit together a chill, auroral figure. By five, I had received several more epistolary objects, including the most wonderful letter from New York, impressed with the image of a section of cross-cut tree like the one in La jetée like the one in Vertigo.
I wear the bracelet to answer my letters & fancy I can hear little motes of pearl-dust sifting down to mix with the ink & seal it to the glimmer of a thought.