The moon child on the mountain looks at the sky and remembers:
– I dreamed of a sky where strange birds were swimming. They were lined with gloomy aerial promontories made up of agglutinated men singing, which kept the whole together. Here and there it happened that one of them, or several, catching his breath, fell, immediately caught and swallowed by the birds. Then the bird, weighted with dead breath, plunged into the bowels of the earth and did not emerge until much later transformed. I could not see them in the same way and I can not remember what shape they had, but I knew that they too, just like me, were dreaming and singing. Strange thing, I was there but I was not singing...
