Julia closed her eyes and the buildings appeared in front of her, magnificent, clear, accessible. She picked up a pencil and drew a line, straight at the beginning, then bent a little, then another line, from a point somewhere along the first, much shorter. Then another and another. It’s a chair, a running man, no, it is a map, no, a building. Here lied the magic of stopping the passage of time. It was day and night and day again and Julia did nothing else but draw, from memory, one line at the time, until it was done, then something else, then again. She ate nothing, for she was not hungry, she did not sleep, for she was not tired, she heard not the people around her, until she fell asleep at the drawing table. It was night then, and day and night again and Julia woke up and did nothing else but draw.