To passing through.

很喜歡那位老太太的獨白，錄于此：

Well, when I think of Corpileas, what I missed most about him is, the way he used to lie down next to me at night.
Sometimes his arms would stretch along my chest and I could’t move, I even held my breath.
But I felt safe, complete.
And I miss the way he was whistling walking down the street.
And every time I do something I think of what he would say: well it’s cold today, wear a scarf.
But lately, I’ve been forgetting little things, it’s sort of fading... And... I’m starting to forget him. And it’s like...like losing him again.
So sometimes I made myself remember him every detail of his face, the exact color of his eyes, his lips, his teeth; the texture of his skin, his hair. But it was all gone by the time he went.
And sometimes...not always but sometimes, I can actually see him.
It’s as if a cloud moves away and there he is, I could almost touch him. But then, Doria, well, rushes in and he vanishes again.
Well I did this every morning, when the sun was not too bright outside. The sun, somehow makes him vanish.
Yes he appears, he disappears, like...sunrise, or sunset, or anything so ephemeral.
Just like our life, hmm? We appear, and we disappear, and we are so important to some, but we are just... passing through.

...To passing through.