““They grope before them like blind people and find each the other as they would a door. Almost like children that dread the night, they press close into each other. And yet they are not afraid. There is nothing that might be against them: no yesterday, no morrow; for time is shattered. And they flower from its ruins. He does not ask: 'Your husband?' She does not ask: 'Your name?' For indeed they have found each other, to be unto themselves a new generation. They will give each other a hundred new names and take them all off again, gently, as one takes an earring off.””
