There was a castle in the air, where I met this girl enduring chemo, her foremost shorn and her eyes Jack Frost cold. We clasped mitts through tone downed couloirs and she leads me into a room filled with somnolence. Just a brumal space, with a stretching queue of cots, holding these sublimate bodies. I get a complaint inside, I look at her and I am mirage. Every implosive ever chimed. I peer at her, knowing that I will always be in her mind. When her mind is no matter.