One night, a little white bird took me into my soul, and quietly gasped. It was incredibly empty; I had never known of such a thing. Locked in my memory, the pain ate me whole, body and soul. I left this sad existense to find a whole new life in a dimension of ice, so cold and numbing. It didn't help. Paralyzed with fear and at the breaking point of this tortuous insanity, the bloodsucking raisins, I turned and walked with my back against the sun. Watching the dying flames, I looked to the sky at my uncertain future. I winced slightly at the dark, threatening thunderhead in the distance. Yet despite this hour of mourning, I saw the little white bird flying above the deadly cloud, singing with joy.