3rd november 2003
. . . from morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropped from the zenith like a falling star,
On Lemnos, th' Aegean isle.
from Paradise Lost, Book l
The pain was immense, like an army inside him filling his whole space. When its tide ebbed slightly, he became aware that he was among trees, lying on roots and pine needles. The sea was not far off. There was an iron bench, paint peeling. He very much wanted to sit on it, but at that moment this was not possible.