"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. “Are we cool?” Michelle asked her. “You know that I have always hated this!” She 264 looked down at Michelle’s pitifully bloody head, her body barely hanging on to its breath. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind.
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