Hakuryuen
(The White Dragon Garden) (A-109)

The last brightness of the already-gone day burned darkly on a cloud that went slate colored as I watched. The air hummed and buzzed with insects, but their noise was a form of silence, not a sound, and over the whole garden lay a cushiony emptiness that absorbed and blotted up every vibration of air. I listened until the stillness rang in my ears. The garden, unstirred by the slightest wind, darkened as I watched it, like a curing Polaroid film.

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