still of the night, my being, my very soul seemed to just float about my house. I am calling my body my house because I am leaving it behind. I left it right there still, cold, and lifeless. When I opened up my eyes I stood in front of a gate. This was no ordinary gate; it was made of pearl, one huge pearl, and the likes of which no man has ever seen. It opened as if by magic, but actually I was invited to come in. The light of this city was so bright and pure that it seemed to bring with it a flood
creaking gate or the banging of the door at the end of the path as the wind whistled through it into the house. Something drew me from the pavement towards the overgrown privet hedge, which partially obscured the rotting wooden gate, with the paint peeling from it. As I stepped inside the gate I was astounded by just how unkept it was. The long grass was a wilderness, filled with crisp packets and cans, and any other rubbish that people felt like hurling over the hedge or gate. There were