Carl and I both appear to be stuck where we are, as though being held in place, as Francois slowly approaches the shining being. Then he stops, just less than a metre in front of him. They appear to be communicating, and Francois remains very still and silent. The stranger suddenly fades from view, but there is still a lingering luminescence that is slowly fading away. The peacock is still perched on the branch, his iridescent blue neck still capturing some of the heavenly light, and now the peacock is also nowhere to be seen. Francois turns towards us, his face caught in a rapt, beatific smile, his face shining from the residual refulgence.
"How are you?" says Carl, as he returns to us.
He is silent at first, and enfolds us both in a strong and warm embrace, holding us close to him for a moment, then gently releasing us. He continues to stare at us, smiling.
"It's all good", he says in a whisper,
"Did the angel speak to you", I ask.
"Yes, and it's all good. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."
"Julian of Norwich", say I.
"Who was he?" says Carl.
"She", say I, "Was a medieval English mystic."
"He spoke to her those words", says Francois, still smiling.
"Um", say I, "She lived more than seven hundred years ago."
"So she did", says Francois. "So she did."
"
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