It was great, sure but it was always temporary, always. What weird things is she doing with her hands whilst she talks, staring her Icelandic stare that can freeze the fjords; she reminds me of a bird trying to breathe, bird made of air. All the Songs damn her. Clues, clues, clues, are all there. Is the blame there, too? Will she cease crying now? Why but why is her own music making her so sad? I didn't fill her up with those songs. You gotta wonder who are those songs for anyways. They are not mine, whose are they? It's a shame really, for in those songs she knows who I am.

She is there and this is what I say to her ;

Aye, you are only a normal person just like me. Until you sing; then, then you are something else entirely. Your music makes me want to stay within myself and not turn at all.

Moon is gone, the wolf is still coming.