Dalili I saw him. He was sat with the child in a chair. I told myself what he was doing was wrong and I should go in and try to take the child from him. Then as I got closer, I saw he was asleep. His hand lay on the child, touching his head. I saw the love in the graceful nature of his hand. I looked at the brightness from him and saw this beaming into the child. He open his eyes. They were golden, with small bright flecks that saw the universe. He looked at me with a long gaze. He sighed and then he stood and laid the child in his bed. Then he was gone. I thought of him. This tall, incredibly strong man. There were muscles on him I had never seen before. And then his clothes. I knew them to be clothes people never worn today. His shoes were sandals, like the sandals worn by gladiators. No trousers, only a gladiator skirt. He wore no shirt. Only his arm were covered by light mail, up to the elbow, manicae. I would someday know that it was incredible soft. That was the first time ...
I write therefore I am