I can see my friends everywhere; they haven‘t disappeared and they are visible to all those who want to see them. The face of a little friend looking at you with her big round eyes through a gnarled tree root, the dancing white figure of light, reflected in the pond in the rising mist on a clear full moon night. The power to have retained the ability to recognize everything possible in all being is magical; once a figure is seen in a cloud, it is impossible to let it go.