Black Grass, April 26th 1986. (Composed 2006.)

He came in under the shadow of a group of tall trees, and the change of temperature and humidity combined with the weak light created the illusion of walking into a room. Peter noticed he was breathing heavily, tropically. Here in the shade a sort of night reigned, although the light of day was discernible high up there, above the tree tops, sparkling like little stars in the foliage, as froth on a water surface, and all of a sudden he was overmastered by an intense desire to be ”good”. For a moment the whole world turned into a waiting. Two minutes passed. A grasshopper sat completely frozen on the grass. It resembled a very small cuirassier. Then a heavy noise broke out from somewhere, a growing thunder that kept on rolling across the sky. But it wasn't a storm, and there was no lightning, everything was completely still. Not a single leaf moved.

Out again, out of the gloom under the trees all was back to normal, his head clear and stomach calm. Had he trodden a sector of a certain charge, an unpermitted gravitational line in the magnetic field of the earth? Or was it just that he had discovered that grasshopper and thus departed from his usual route? I must strike myself with amazement, thought Peter.