“You’ll probably move right through / Me on my way…”

A dark lit place: the empty shadows of spines and faces, down the silent entomed aisles. The shroud of a false form is removed, and pinned to an empty wall. Memories are cleared out, what’s forgotten swept away, and the rest is peace. For Orpheus knew it a mistake to look back, but at least then he will have seen what will be lost as he exits the underworld. And then it’s over.

“…I’m not paralyzed…”