The dust film on the glass of the window made the trunk of the tree fade away, but after standing for a long time, his eyes penetrated through the denseness and he saw dark green here and there on the bark, imprints like glowing coal, wrinkles, protruding round twigs, with pared stiff sprigs sticking out, it was so different from all the natural and artificial pits, tiny insignificant grazes from randomly pointed fragments, examining the deep traces, which look like closed wounds with gray fillings, he was counting the insects crawling over the trunk of the tree, he knew by heart the open pores in the cracks. The bark was like drought-cracked ground. The sprinkled ashy hue on the whiteness of the snow is broken up into dark cracks in which darkness freezes. He would create images for himse
