"The end of his meditations was sudden,
though it was foretold in certain signs.
First (after a long drought)
a faraway cloud on a hill,
light and rapid as a bird;
then, toward the south,
the sky
which had the rose color
of the leopard's mouth;
then the smoke
which corroded the metallic nights;
finally, the panicky flight of the animals.
For what was happening
had happened many centuries ago."
~Jorge Luis Borges, The Circular Ruins
UNIT I
UNIT II
UNIT III
