Today is Eve's Day. At least that's how I think of it. It passes like any other day. It passed two years ago, except for Eve, and here we are two years later.

?והלילה אני לבד. חבל. מה עוד חדש

But Eve is alone, too, in that nothingness of death. Today is a day I feel more than usual the world that bleeds. The world bleeds everyday, but on March 5, it bleeds madness and despair all over me. I'm covered in it. At the same time, it's also bleeding laughter and ecstasy. I just can't feel those on March 5. I can't see past Eve on March 5.

So the night grows around me. I speak out loud to no one. My lungs expel poison and my life exudes loneliness. The loneliness pulses and I stand still.

Yesterday I walked for a long time. Where others complain, I celebrate, like I always celebrate gales. There is nothing like a strong wind to walk against. It reminds me of how fragile I am, how lucky I am that somehow in all this Chaos, Chance chose me to be born. It's worth all of it just to stand in a gale, to feel the wind so strong, it almost feels like it pushes all the way through me. My cells separate, the matter out of which I am made disperses momentarily and for one brief moment, I can catch eternity; I become a part of the elusive wind that usually can do nothing more than push me one way or another, or slip slyly through my fingers.

Next to me, an angel waits. Next to me an angel always waits. Tonight, it is silent, but we have become so intimate, I already know what it would say if I asked a question. Sometimes I wonder if I ever had a choice about the angels, if I had a choice of remaining human enough in Mind to fit with my own species, or if I was born already once removed. And I wonder also, if I would have chosen humanity or the Seraphim if given a conscious choice. Memory answers me:

"We dream of each other, Little Girl. Neither of us can cease to be until we both stop dreaming. We are a mutual dream, intertwined thoughts created by and perpetuated by Thought."

The presence of angels prompted another question in me. I will provide the answer: "You want to know what God is, Little Girl? Look in the mirror. Look at the world around you. Look at the nature of our existence. Like you and I, God is a Thought, for we do dream of ourselves, after all."

So I guess Eve isn't so bad off. Someone just stopped dreaming. Maybe an angel is happier now. It went somewhere instead of eternal stagnation. But that still leaves the world empty of her. And I still feel the world bleed on March 5.