Small lithe limbs passing smoothly over the balustrade as Crowjar slips unseen onto the sloping roof>upwards in the shadow as the city lays deep in a midnight dream>each window Crowjar passes is an invitation into the lives of the people sleeping but she has no time now>no time at all>if she had the time Crowjar would like to watch and wonder what it was that people worried about in their sleep>but she is late and has to hurry>