I can walk through the rain, that rare occurrenceand never be hit by a drop. There is a space around methat refuses to be penetrated by weather of any kindbe it rain or snow or sunshine. Is it cold I hear youasking in your voice soft as a breeze. No it is notparticularly cold. If I were to describe it as warmI would be lying as well. If I were to pretend I heardyou, far-off, mirage, breeze on the horizon, no truthwould ever be said to have come from my frozen lips.