At the top of the steeple there is an empty window. Usually there is someone up there, staring out across the gray and blurred lost landscape, hoping for something (for the appearance of colored horses, or the sudden growth of flowers, or something for dinner). But our appearance and caused her or him to duck. Imagine what it must be like there, clutching the floor, wondering if an earthquake is about to begin, wondering who you are, what time it is...     My escort was still with me. Together, we traveled into the television, and burst through to the past, where my future was about to be decided.