The feather

The Silent Eye

The Feather smaller

There was a feather on his pillow when he settled down to sleep that last time. He had no idea where it had come from. If it was time to die, so be it…

Always the same beginning to the dream; the swim to the hidden beach on the Greek island, the beautiful sun blazing down on his naked body–far from the world he had left when he plunged into the water and began the half-hour’s crawl.

That much had been real, though the recurring dream gave it a new quality. When his world had come crashing down, when all meaning had seemed lost, he had gathered up his meagre savings and taken that last minute holiday to the tiny, poor place on the Greek island; its white rocks reflecting the sun amidst the glittering, dark blue of the Mediterranean sea.

On that far sand, he remembered actually falling asleep…

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