Sun beams filter through the leaves and tree branches whisper.
Soft woven bamboo beneath the feet, the weight of one's body on the knees.
Pa-chik.
The sharp rap of a stone against the board. A silent contemplation comes to an end.
The wind murmurs along the curve of the jaw, brushes its lips against the velvet strands of hair.
Then and now. The lines run straight along, solid and firm in the fading orange of day.
A thousand years later in a whole other life, sun beams filter through the leaves and tree branches whisper.
The hum of the computer and the click of ice within a chilled glass. The cool beads of condensation trickle down a translucent world.
Life is breathed into a faceless name and a soul is reborn.
The glow of the computer screen casts light onto the other side of the river where escape is sought.
The end doesn't matter; just that light beyond your shadow.