The Peacock 1902

It is still dark.  There are no clocks here and I do not know what time it is. I am feeling rested, and here I am waking up in a strange room  And now the flood of memories from yesterday, all the strange bizarre and lurid confessions and revelations and Jesus appearing in his eternally youthful form in the coffee shop only to transport us...here....this place called the Refuge.  A quick shower is all I need and now that I am dried and dressed there is a soft knock on the door. It is Tron. "Perhaps", he says, "We could greet the dawn while walking in the gardens together." I don't see why not, but instead of saying anything, I slip on my shoes and off we go. The dawn bird chorus has already begun, and together we are crossing a huge expansive lawn.  I can only imagine the work involved in maintaining a place of such dimension and beauty.  I can just see the beautifully molded features of Tron's face as we walk silently together, past a bed of irises, much like where Carl and Melissa live, then under a bower of soft purple wisteria in full and glorious bloom.  I am feeling cold and Tron hands me without either of us asking the dark grey pullover sweater he has been carrying under his arm. "Thank you. Tron.  This is a beautiful sweater." "Take it with you." "Thank you  Thank you very much..."