The contours are absorbed in different intensities of light and
in the indistinct regions between light and darkness everything is
clear: wax candles flicker in a changing wind. The women store their
dresses away. Somebody is sneaking down the stairs in stockinged
feet. In the foreground you see a boy who stares at a sun draped
with heavy velvet hangings in the thousand known nuances of gray.
The clouds hang far away as frail bells.
Translated from the Danish by David Keplinger
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