XIX. At this point the music on the soundtrack grows soft and sentimental. We put on the fuzzy warm filter that gives a diffuse quality to our images and the light. We walk through fields of tall prairie grass. A whippoorwill sounds in the trees. We come the rocky shore of a stream, and we look at our reflections. Happy you. You stand there smiling. The same as you ever were, only better. And me . . . how do I look?

XX.