The living boy speaks misshapen words and the shrill torrent of time shrieks its course, the abysm shuts and images die. All ends at the eaves of the forest...

...the world beyond the eaves of the forest beginns where the briear tears tightly to your abdomen and leaves no rest in the sould as the legend is wrought and the time for thought and speech fails.

No more shall no one live with senses asleep.