In the depths of the night, the waxing gibbous moon almost dipped back into the earth. The horizon showed the faintest hint of dawn.
In Aiwass's room, the seat clock rhythmically swung its pendulum, its hands now pointing to 4:20 a.m.
Yet he sat still in his wheelchair, motionless as a statue, leafing through the "Nurturing Secret Sequel".
Two streams of eerily purple-red tears slid continuously from the corners of Aiwass's eyes, who sat dazed at his desk, dropping tepidly onto the pages of the book before being absorbed into it.
Aiwass was engrossed in the secrets within the book.
His skin flushed crimson, the veins on his forehead and arms visibly swollen. Those veins, which should have been tinged with blue, showed a web of deep purple.
Despite it being winter, the room remained warm. Yet with Aiwass's deep and harsh breathing, wisps of a pale, white hot mist continuously exhaled from his mouth. Occasionally, a low cough would spark a few embers.
