A Poet of Consciousness: Wisława Szymborska Moment FEBRUARY 23, 2006 I walk on the slope of a hill gone green. Grass, little flowers in the grass, as in a children’s illustration. The misty sky’s already turning blue. A view of other hills unfolds in silence.
Do not touch his toothbrush. Strictly prohibited objects: dirty clothes, empty chocolate wrappers and half empty bottles, anything he consider “dangerous stuff on Sirius’ hands”, any thousand-page book and if it’s possible: Sirius Black’s wand (he’s a pain in the ass when he wants, believe me). But the most important advertence is: Take care of him because he truly believe he can do it by himself - but can’t. Also, don’t love him or Sirius Black will punch you in the face.