...of the ice

Sometimes I wake from the dream and hear what passes for silence about me. It is the sound of a car in the street, cats yowling in the garden at the back. I remember the silence of the ice, that desolate country so firm in my imagination. Oblique images fill my mind. I used to feel they were a reflection of his thoughts, a strange hurried flash as if he was thinking of me at that moment and sending me what he could see before him. It is dark and troubled under the night sky but the ice glows with the reflection of the stars. If you have ever seen a moonpath on the sea you will know what I mean. There is a feeling that if you could just follow it it would take you to the end of the world.

[Index, Penney, B.]