Cosmos - pg. 89

It was still hanging, just as it had been when Fuchs and I found it. I examined the little dried-up ball, which was becoming less and less like a sparrow every day. Strange, I wanted to laugh, but better not. But I didn't really know what I wanted to do, because after all I had not come here only to look at it. I could not think what the right thing to do was, perhaps I ought to greet it with an appropriate gesture, or say something, but no, better not, that would be exaggerating, going too far .... How dappled with sunshine the black earth was. And look at that worm there. The round trunk of a pine-tree. If I came here bringing my hanging of the cat with me, it's certainly no trivial matter, but something I have done to myself. Amen, amen, amen. The edges of the leaves were curling, that was the effect of the heat. Who had dropped that old tin here, and what was inside it? Oh, ants, of course, I hadn't noticed them. Oh, that's enough, let's be off. What a good thing you've associated your hanging of the sparrow, that has made something quite different of it. Why different? Don't ask. Let's be off. What's that bit of paper over there?