In a time that was poverty stricken; barren and desolate: willow trees swayed to the heartbeats of the dead. As we sat there in a daze, wondering what happened to the days we weren’t- just so empty. In the meantime the dogs of the night howled, luring the end to show itself. But the willow trees just keep swaying and swaying until the dogs get sick. Like a never ending roller coaster. All the while we watch: trying to learn from the dead, what we could not put, into words. “Define the meaning of existence,” we asked. And the dead would not reply. All that was left in our simple minds was the howls of the dogs, and the pitter patter of the drain pipes. No more heartbeats. No more questions. Only the nothingness.