I come up from the cellar: suddenly everything is full of light.
The light greets everything, greets the flower-vase and smiles at it, greets the teddy bear, me and the torch high on the shelf.
The light caresses the backs of all the books at once and shines on all the specks of dust at once, and the dust begins to dance.
The light reminds us, all us specks of dust, that redemption is the understanding that you are redeemed; understanding is the understanding that you have not understood.
Is not and is – between them runs the thinnest of thin lines: it has no thickness, no colour, no smell or weight.
Through it? But that is the same as if nothing happened. The spot of sunlight on the wall reaches the seam between two pieces of wallpaper and the cherry petal comes loose from the blossom and begins to fall, continues falling;
for us, in our time, it will never reach the ground, will never find redemption, will never decay.
But in its own time it reaches the floor, finds redemption and understanding.
Is there a third time, something outside past and future (it is not the present, the present is nothing but the border between them), which unites it and our own time, understanding, decay and redemption,
which for a moment wipes away the line between is not and is like the light whose smile set the dust in the room dancing?
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