A voice without sound was whispering to me in the night. I did not awake, though the voice was gently caressing my cheek, my hair, my neck. Perhaps it was nonsense, perhaps only a dream.
With both of my arms straight out, I balanced away from the sleep. The thin line was streched out below me. It was not in the art of balance I had my strengths. Afraid of falling, I wanted to hold on to something. There was nothing but emptiness to cling on to.
_Jorun Larson
