A pretty woman sat on the bench of the square. Bright light came through the trees, leaving the meadow fresh and shining.

She may not have noticed me, on the cold winter morning at Savannah's beautiful square. I kept
thinking the warmth of the sun by looking at the red finger lit by the light.

"The process by which we travel from the moment of recognition to the event now embedded in the far
reaches of our minds resemebles one of those camera feats by which in a few seconds we are given
the visual record of a passage through many years" (by Van Trump), just as shown in this picture.