And there was the one night he almost cried for the hole in the universe, his heart, any understanding of either. Random music colored the air as he danced around the room, each lyric from lives past by turn a love song or a dirge. He sang along when the tears came closest, or perhaps the other way around. In either case, the wall between joy and sorrow was, at its strongest, the thinnest of ancient, half-dust swaddling, prepared to be pierced at any moment.