The rooster is singing, my dear. It sings of a new start. Like it did yesterday, today and it will even sing tomorrow. The same start that comes ceaselessly, without stopping. An encouraging start that makes one dream of the things to come.
The rooster is singing, my dear, and I have never thanked you. That smell of moonflower remembers me of you. It is present within yesterday and tomorrow. And tomorrow is that crystal glass with brown and orange dots, left somewhere in the vestibule. It sings and I hope you’re proud!