Tabassum’s Reviews > Death in Spring > Status Update

We played with the feathers in the early autumn when no birds remained. In the courtyard beneath the bloom-less wisteria, a few odd flowers would still be blossoming, those that had not known how to bloom in time. Hidden among the leaves, they didn’t have much color. At times a weary wind would expose them for a moment, as if ashamed of displaying them.

I headed for the path everyone had taken, the straight path, the path with the dandelions you blow apart with a puff, the path with lizards whose tails grow back. The path beyond the slope that was full of dust in summer and mud in winter.

I lowered myself gently into the water, hardly daring to breathe, always with the fear that, as I entered the water world, the air—finally rid of my nuisance—would begin to rage and be transformed into furious wind, like the winter wind that nearly carried away houses, trees, and people.

Souls have no mouths, so they spoke to us through the voice of the wind.