I am creating this for the first time!
１）
Bach’s music seems to be so mesmerizing, no matter it is classical, jazz or pop, all music creators and lovers listen to Bach with fascination, continue to copy Bach’s works, and derive his style and meaning. His works are so simple but profound, so plain but deep in the heart, and the sighs that appear in the phrases from time to time seem to tell the world, “If you get the feeling, mourn and do not rejoice,” he is mournful and reserved, and he gets the feeling of the world’s sufferings.
I started listening to Bach along with a series of ups and downs in my life, and Bach has become an integral part of my life. I relied on Bach to comfort myself (to avoid going crazy), but also in a Bach tune to mark a stop in my life. In the middle of the night, on the verge of drunkenness, the mysteries of Bach seemed so close and so far away, unfolding with Bach’s conviction and settling down with his sighs. For a moment I felt the infinite possibilities and wonder of what Baja could be to a man, speculating that he was a remnant of aliens, not of the race of this green planet.
In Bach’s work there are bright as the Brandenburg Concerto and obscure as the art of the fugue. There is one piece in Bach’s oeuvre that has always puzzled me, reminding me of a woman who wandered and hesitated, overwhelmed and helpless to live with the effects of time, the only mark of his playboy career, a woman who was strange, seductive, pitiful, and alone in her isolation from the world.
２）
The popularity of the Internet has opened up a new era in human lifestyles, work styles, and a new way of expressing human emotions. He used to catch girls in the city’s pubs, but after a long time of practicing, he felt bored. All the girls he catches are gradually moving towards a homogeneous pattern, and the biggest enemy of sexual exploration and adventure is monotony.
When he first read about Cyber-sex in a book, he immediately took the plunge. When he realized that he could achieve the same goals on the Internet as he did with girls in pubs, he immediately indulged in this freer, less burdensome, and more affordable sexual adventure. He cuts out real-world sex in favor of the virtual world of the Internet. Things often start this way, he went online into the BBS, began to browse through the nicknames, picking a few implied invitation to start. The first day to talk about the north and south, “the right head” and then indicate the intention, then you can carry out the so-called online sex.
３）
The common sighs of Bach’s works are so attractive to me, and I find great comfort and inspiration in his sighs. Beethoven’s fury and ferocity give positive power, but it is easy to be crushed, not everyone can be like Beethoven, with superhuman will and courage. Bach’s power is a negative one, so gentle, so continuous.
The greatest vigor and vitality in Bach’s oeuvre appears in the Brandenburg Concertos. These six groups of pieces for two or three solo instruments accompanied by a small orchestra were written at different times, assembled by Bach himself, and dedicated to the Duke of Brandenburg, and thus named so by later generations, and they are ideal introductory listening works for Bach. The ornamentation is a trademark of the Baroque period (Trademark), and Bach’s beautiful counterpoint, fugue-style complex and varied variations are also on display in these pieces.
When the unmanned spacecraft Explorer was sent to fly to the nine planets in an attempt to make contact with extraterrestrial life, it was none other than the first movement of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 that marked the beginning of human musical civilization.
There was also a long time when I used the first movement of Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 as a wake-up call, letting the day begin by the sunny, youthful injection of the tune.
But still I am drunk with the shadows of Bach’s compositions, Bach’s occasional sighs, they so captivate me, so make me meditate, one dead love, one interrupted romance.
４）
Which brings me back to him, he was a teaching assistant at the university up the hill in the small town of Riverside. The first time I met her on the Internet was purely by chance, nearly late at night, he was in an empty research lab, it was a Saturday afternoon and everyone had gone on a date.
The girl he’d lost had gone abroad to meet her other boyfriend, and he’d always told himself that he had plenty of women anyway, not just this one, even though it was almost the last one he’d ever loved so much.
He went up to the station, which wasn’t very crowded, it never was on Saturday evenings. He lazily looked at the nicknames, picking one at random, the female-looking nickname didn’t particularly appeal to him, but he called her anyway, Page. She replied, “I’m in a bad mood, don’t mind me.”
He let it go, but then he received her Page and realized that her card reads, “I am me, who am I? Who is worthy of being me, and who am I worthy of being for?”
The text convinced him of the girl’s (if she was indeed a girl) post-modern, no-nonsense, no-holds-barred style, the kind of good kid who was good and excellent for a sexual adventure. After a few moments of chatting, she said that she had just pressed the wrong button, and that she could talk, and that she could come up to talk later by appointment, but that right now she had to go out for something.
That night he agreed to meet her at the upper station, chatting and chatting, he began his process, and they also made friends on the net, what impressed him was the use of her erotic text was very bold and titillating, the mastery of the text was very good, and the logical thinking was also very clear, he guessed that she was a girl from the Faculty of Letters, and later he realized that it was true, she had studied Philosophy, and dropped out of the university after a few years of study, and is now working for a foreign business company.
He gets a sensual experience like no other, and because of that he decides to give himself more room for adventure, and he breaks with his usual routine, intending to seduce her further by meeting her and then seducing her.
But the process of seducing a literary girl is often carried out in a way that a literary girl would be seduced, and the man who is comfortable with the text also feels it deeply, and he expresses with all his spirit and self-control his disinterested interest, and shows himself most proudly telling the other person about his own “good sense”, “sadness” and, of course, “erudition”.
She suddenly said, “I’m coming to see you now,” during a talk near midnight. She actually lived in the same town on the riverfront, and they met on University Avenue.
At night in the university there are still couples in the stroll, he did not follow the general way of meeting Internet users so concerned about the other side of the face, will first hide in the dark to see the face of the person. He walked over to them and said, “I’m the guy you met on the Internet.”
He was even thicker than she expected, tall and strong, with long hair that was too long but not too playful, and designer clothes, she didn’t reject such a boy, and could even say that she had a little bit of a crush on him. She was also taller and more fleshy than he expected, plain looking, but he had a great appetite for voluptuous bodies, and the girl with the CCup had a good head on her shoulders.
They chatted in his large research room where he hosted several graduate students but was empty. He smoked a cigarette and let her look at him from afar, trying to arouse the fire in her heart, but he found that the fire could only be lit at a certain distance and disappeared once he got close to her. He was very curious, and due to years of training and experience, he was in no hurry, and they parted ways that night to go back to their respective homes, and then they arranged to meet several times, with several passionate Cyber-sex talks interspersed in between. Each time they met, there would be a few passionate Cyber-sex talks in between, but when they met, the fire would always be extinguished at close range, and he felt very surprised, so different from what he was used to experiencing and the qualities that ordinary girls should have.
In the end he still got it, once they met face to face, he told her that today is extremely bad, to the students permissive in turn was falsely accused of teaching fish in the water, was the head of the department severely repaired a meal, but also liquidated the old accounts of his previous private life indiscretions, he was in a very frustrated mood.
He found another light in her eyes amidst his own complaints and her consolations, and that night he took her back to his place by the university, and they caressed each other and made love, but he was surprised to find her passivity and negativity, and her bottom stayed dry, there were no passionate episodes on the net, no blowjobs, streams of lustful water, and hissing frenzied screams.
She had been dry, she lay almost corpse-like, and he was amazed, as if he were copulating with a blow-up doll, with a corpse.
A bland and tedious masturbation and a bizarre and unsettling necrophilia plot.
She didn’t have an orgasm that night, and with all his means and exhaustion, he just couldn’t get her to reach it. This was undoubtedly the greatest frustration of his playboy career, and the more tenacious his partner became, the weaker he became. Finally, his prick spasmed and twitched twice, ejaculating a small amount of semen, and he felt supremely humiliated and frustrated.
She didn’t give in to his self-approved charms, he just raped her without the slightest pleasure.
Her flexing then backfired and raped him.
５）
Well-tempered Clavier is a keyboard instrument, and in Bach’s time there were only three keyboard instruments, the harpsichord, the harpsichord, and the organ, and most of these pieces are played on the modern piano, which was developed later, and if Bach would have had a modern piano available, I’m sure he would have used it to play the Clavier as well. This is of course my opinion, but as someone has said, “The old piano, soft as clay, the harpsichord, grim and ancient, the organ, impeccable, the piano, as free as a painting”, and it is true, modern pianos have features that allow the timbre and volume to be controlled by the player’s will, just as free as a painting. I still believe that Bach would have chosen this instrument to play the Average Rate Collection.
Average rate, the frequency of sounds separated by semitones of a scale to make it average. For the human voice, singing the note of ascending G is different from the note of descending A. This is the natural rate (pure rate), but for a keyboard instrument such as a piano, it is possible to make it the same, and this becomes the average rate. The average rate allows all keys in the interval to be used for composing, and also harmonizes the melodies of the transposed keys.
The use of averages in composition and performance was not yet common in Bach’s time, and Bach advocated the replacement of pure rates with a system of averages, and his averaged keyboard compositions are a practice and an advocate of his own theory. It would be a mistake to think of this collection as a temporary or experimental work that will be forgotten over time.
Filled with Bach’s ingenuity, mystery, fugal variety and counterpoint, this collection has been called the “Old Testament” of keyboard music (Beethoven’s complete piano sonatas are the “New Testament”).
Because of the depth and breadth of these pieces, the piano has more room to express the ideas of the piece.
The most famous person who played average rate on the piano was Glenn Gould (Canadian), whose mysterious and eccentric style (not sleeping much and working day and night, only recording but not playing in public after he became famous, all recordings were mixed with his songs in the piano) attracted a lot of religiously fervent believers. His recordings of average rate piano performances have become a model for his generation. His control of timbre and volume, the clarity of the voices, and the skill with which he played the complexity of the pieces are rare and will be difficult for future generations to surpass. Even Bach would be surprised to learn that his works were so eloquently rendered by a young man from the New World.
The Prelude in C major in the average rate is the most often quoted in all soundtracks (e.g., advertisements, movies), listening to the flow of a clear spring, but the first half of this first booklet did not even impress me as much as I was impressed, and I found a lot of profound and moving phrases in the second half of the booklet, which came to my mind from time to time, such as the Fugue in G major, which has a fugue with a gradual and complex melody that, like a descending rain, nourishes the heart.
６）
After that night, he and her still often have cybersex online, and it seems that she prefers this type of sex, and is more able to get pleasure and orgasm in this type of sex. But gradually, they talked more about the details of their lives and got to know each other better. They got used to the comfort of this kind of cyber-sex, and also the comfort of sharing other aspects of life.
One day she told him that her place had been invaded, that the thief had entered her place when she was returning to Taichung and had taken nothing but all her underwear. He remembered what she always told about her lingerie on the internet, the variety and titillation of colors and styles, the perfect sizes, and he was sure it was an extremely discerning thief.
But she was so afraid that he asked her to move to his own place, and there was a vacant room next to it, and she moved in shortly afterward. She moved in, but except for the first day, when he helped her carry some daily necessities, he did not go to her room again. He sensed her attitude, she did not want him to get involved in her life.
Cyber-sex is still going on, with young men and women living close to each other communicating through sophisticated technological links to a host computer 150 kilometers away, intermingling in text. During the day she goes to work, leaves early in the morning and works late. He slept in the morning when he didn’t have class, and hung out in the research lab until even later when he didn’t Talk to her. But he knew that from time to time another man came into her room, that he gave her spiritual and physical provisions because she was wet (he was so sure of that), and that her loud hissing on the verge of dying came so distinctly to his side that he felt humiliated.
He often listens to classical music, and the two rooms right next to each other sound each other, one day in the online talk she asked: “You often listen to piano music in the middle of the night?”
“Yeah! Did you make any noise?”
“No, it doesn’t! All the music you play is very nice, and it matches the atmosphere of the day, night, and sky!”
“Yeah! I can go be a DJ.)”
“You’re my DJ whoo! *^_^*”
She was so playful on the Internet, but they occasionally met at the door just to say hello and she quickly left or went into her room.
“Can you tell me what piano music you’re listening to?”
“It’s Bach’s Average Rate Keyboard Collection, a very listenable piece, I’ve had this CD for almost ten years and I’m still listening to it! I’ll play it for you now.”
He put the CD on the turntable and they listened to the same piece of music in their respective rooms, the first prelude from the Average Rate Keyboard Collection, in C major.
A spring of fresh water flowed into the hearts of both men.
He told him something about the averages, lent her the CD, and then he often heard the averages coming from the neighboring room, and he noticed that she was fixed on listening to those tunes, in a minor key, gray and mournful.
７）
The Prelude in B minor has always puzzled me, and I have often wondered what Bach had in mind when he wrote the B minor Prelude, which is the last piece in the first of the two huge volumes of Bach’s average-rate keyboard compositions. The piece has a completely different flavor when played by different people (which is one of the characteristics of Bach’s work, of course, but especially here), and the speed of the tempo dominates the presentation of the piece. For example, if you play it very slowly, as in a slow solo, it is meditative and ethereal. Played more rapidly, it appears to be impatiently bored.
In any case, it’s an eerie piece that seems to defy Bach’s norm. He would always end a piece with a happy valedictory mood, as in the unaccompanied cello suite or the Brandenburg concerto, while the B minor prelude and fugue, a solo wandering at night under a solitary lamp, is long and unsettling.
８）
One night she came knocking on his door. He was listening to a symphony, “Is the music too loud?” He asked, surprised to find her very emaciated.
“No. Are you free?” She asked in a barely audible voice.
“Wow! Yeah, I’ll be online in a minute, usual place, right?”
“Uh…” she hesitated, “No, but are you free now?”
“Yes!”
“Come sit at my place, will you?”
It was nearly midnight, and he thought probably she’d watched some ghost story TV program.
“Scared of ghosts! Can’t sleep?”
The corner of her mouth lifted, a squeezed smile.
“Wait for me.” He said as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and filed the information he was working on.
He walked into her room and noticed that the furnishings were much different than what he had helped her with when she first moved in. The room was plain and clean, you could tell it was a girl’s room with a few dolls, a large Hello Kitty.
“Wow? It’s a lot worse than it was.”
“Um, my boyfriend got it, he likes the look.”
“He helped you move it?”
“He ordered me to move.” Lifting the corners of his mouth up again, a bitter smile, he noticed that her pupils didn’t have a single reflection, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a month, as emaciated as a dead man.
“What happened?” He sat down on her bed and casually played with the large chinchilla doll on the bed, realizing that one of the chinchilla’s eyes had fallen out, and it turned out that the adorable fairy tale savior, Totoro, was looking eerily grotesque, like a one-eyed pirate.
“Nothing…” She never asked him to come to her room, nothing? He wasn’t particularly looking forward to anything in the middle of the night, alone in a room with a man and a woman, and the thought of the one and only time he’d had sex was uninteresting.
“Want a drink? Got class tomorrow?”
“Yeah, nothing tomorrow.”
She poured him a glass of whiskey, which he guessed had been left by her man.
“He won’t get mad if I drink from him? You’re not afraid I’ll get drunk?” He said as he took a big gulp, exhaling and letting the alcohol rush out of his nostrils with a straight face.
“I like Kitty…” she casually picked up the doll and sat on the carpet.
“Um, can I smoke?” He found an ashtray, which must be his as well. “What do you like about Kitty?”
“It’s okay if you smoke it. I like that Kitty doesn’t have a mouth.”
“Haha, no mouth? Well… children have ears but no mouth, that’s a Taiwanese proverb, have you heard of it?”
The word “ear” means “no mouth”, which means don’t express too many opinions. That is to say, in everything more bear, less complaining, in fact, not only the child has ears and no mouth, he thought, she must also have been living with ears and no mouth, and he has been living with mouth and no ears.
“Well, she has ears but no mouth… Yes… I was just kidding when I said Kitty has no mouth… Kitty is very cute! Can’t say.”
The two then fell into silence. He smoked cigarettes and drank wine, she was restrained, and the two listened to the jazz coming out of the radio, the distant and mournful trumpet.
“I might need a favor…”
So that was the purpose of the day, “Eh, yeah, help out for sure.”
“I’m pregnant.” She said coldly, as if she wasn’t talking about herself.
He frowned, “How long has it been?”
“Almost three months…”
“Oh… where’s your boyfriend?”
“He’s out of the country.”
“Oh, mine went abroad too, what a coincidence.” He was annoyed with the man: “So, are we going to get married? Oh…”
“Abortion.” She poured a glass of wine as well and drank it without seeming to defend her decision, and the two of them drained the bottle, taking their grievances out on it.
It was the night they made love, and she was very forthcoming, seemingly in order to pay for the relative labor. Once again, he feels insulted that he has never visited prostitutes, not for the sake of moral virtue or respect for women (for neither of these are really relevant), but because he resents the objectification of the flesh, and he prides himself on the fact that he has no need to pay for a girl on his own terms. But the deeper reason is the object of payment in the form of flesh, which permeates the whole of all his behavior that is not whoring, and it is the night when he feels that he has whored her.
９）
On the day of the abortion, she told him in the hospital a lot about her own childhood, the love she had had, the second boyfriend, the first to enter her body, and the first man to betray him, but for him, betraying women was so habitual.
She spent her childhood in a small town in the south, where her family ran a small subway factory, had three children, all girls, and heard that there was supposed to be a fourth, which was aborted when she realized it was a girl. Her mother had treated them, especially her, with such hatred.
She dropped out of university, interrupting her studies with excellent grades, for no other reason than that the cost of tuition and living expenses was not worth it, even at a state university. So she dropped out of school to take up a job in order to pay for her “sin” against her mother, which was caused by the fact that she was born two months after the marriage of her parents, not prematurely, but as a result of a failed marriage.
“Where’s your father?” He asked.
“My dad? Will love me.” She hesitates.
She pushed back her hair, revealing a scar on the right side of her forehead: “Once when I was a child, I snuck out to play and was caught by my father, who pushed me down, and when he missed, he pushed me too hard, and I crashed into an iron frame, the kind that is freshly welded in the factory, and it has sharp corners.”
The nurse came to announce that it was time to start.
“And then?”
“Maybe we were redundant, and they got married because of me…” She tousled her bangs again to hide the stark scar: “He helped me up in a hurry. My face was covered in blood, and he rushed me to the doctor in a fit of guilt and fear… I can always remember my father’s face and expression… I think he loved us anyway. I remember my father’s face and expression… I think he still loved us very much, and that time he was really sorry for hurting me. Later on, when we were all grown up, we went back to see him often, but he had aged a lot, over the years.”
She was sent in, he waited outside the door, the doctor came to see him, blanked and went in. He cursed in his heart, without these negative people, you can not afford to screw the little wife, and also give me a face! I’m not the one who started it.
She woke up in the evening, bloodless, but very pleasant. With him there with them, they paid a cheaper price for a married pregnancy abortion.
After that time, they rarely chatted on the Internet, but instead she often came over and invited him over for a late-night snack she cooked, chatting, and when the lights went out, the two of them lay on the bed caressing each other, naked, and cuddled up until the morning. She would go to work after kissing him lightly on the forehead, no intercourse, always. They lay like brother and sister, neither one of them interested in further activity that was primarily sexual, just touching and exploring each other, comforting each other’s flesh or souls that were plainly lacking.
She seemed to be in a much lighter and happier mood, but every now and then he felt the need to cut out the friend aspect, and everything she did for him was either based on the illusion of love or gratitude for helping with an abortion, both of which he resented. His touching and teasing of her was no more than an instinctive interest in beautiful flesh, but he would rather go to the bathroom when she wasn’t looking to flush his desire away with his semen and come back to hold her naked until morning.
１０）
The average rate of compositions from C major to B minor intergrades a semitone counts twelve major keys, twelve minor keys, a total of 24 groups, each group consists of a prelude and fugue. Each tonality naturally has a style of each tonality, Bach in the final B-flat minor to B major, there is a turn, in the B major suite has a hidden light emergence, long pain in the brief relief of the illusion, back to the light (?), and the sound of a clear and unfailing flow of sound, the sound of a clear and unfailing flow of sound. The B♭ major suite has a vague brightness, a vision of brief relief from long pain, a return (?) of light, a felicitous clearness that flows through, but then it swirls into B minor, and all is somber again, and it becomes bewildered and lost, a life without a tomorrow, a final station without a journey ahead.
If the composition from C major to B minor is destined to lead from light to darkness, why not add a prelude and fugue in C major from B minor? Like the Goldberg Variations, the thirty variations will eventually return to the aria-like theme. Is the predestined CDEFGAB the only CDEFGAB? Why, Bach, tell me?
１１）
A month or two passed, and they had less contact. He often heard another man enter his room again, in and out of her body, and he remembered the look in the gynecologist’s eyes, the black holes in her pupils that looked like despair, the white tiles in the gynecological clinic, the overwhelming fluorescent lights.
All night long he heard her man leave her room late at night, when normally he would have left just after dawn. Later, mixed with the thin sound of the piano and her sobbing, he knew that she was listening to Bach in tears, swallowing unbearable pain, and the result of the difficulty of swallowing was a wail or two from time to time from her throat, and he was so extremely heartbroken and irritated at hearing it that he wanted to go over there and rape her as he would have done if he slapped one a few times to wake him up or to divert him, but he did not go next door, and only listened in silence to the girl’s thin sobs and faraway Baja.
The voices gradually subsided. It was almost dawn when he finished correcting his students’ reports, very tired, and the early morning birdsong filled the woods behind the house. He took a few hasty sips of wine and went to sleep. Vaguely he knew she had gone out to work and should be fine.
He came back early that night, having returned his students’ reports and exams, and after six hours of lab work, he was tired and wanted to go back to bed early. There was no sound in the neighboring room, so he thought she hadn’t come back yet, and he fell into bed and went to sleep.
A glass shattered across the sky, he was awakened, her cries and shouts came over, but after a minute or two, everything was calm again, after a long time, he feared that something had happened, went over to the door of her room and called out to her: “Open the door, open the door, it’s me!”
Inside the room but not the slightest echo, he rushed back to the room to find the key to the neighboring room, earlier the landlord entrusted him to take care of the room next door so that the people who want to rent a house can go in to see the house, he has always had the key to her room. He hurriedly opened the door, the nose is a strong smell of alcohol, the room is brightly lit, a mess, she is lying in a pool of blood, her left wrist is still flowing blood, the right hand is a large fragment of the glass.
１２）
He examined the wound, luckily she didn’t have enough force to cut the artery deeply, only the vein was bleeding, the fluorescent light shone so brightly, the one-eyed chinchilla was watching coldly, the Kitty cat on the ground was stained with the blood of the owner who loved her, he picked her up and rushed out of the door, luckily he caught a taxi in front of the door, the driver refused to take the dying person at first, he told the driver she wasn’t dying, the injury wasn’t serious (actually he wasn’t sure) and saving a life was better than reciting more Buddhist sutras, he opened the door and took her, the driver was still very stubborn, he opened the door and took her, he was very stubborn. of death, that her injuries were not serious (in fact, he wasn’t sure), and that saving a life was better than reciting more Buddhist scriptures, the driver, whose car was plastered with Buddhist sayings, was still very stubborn in his refusal, and he opened the door and put her in, and the driver had no choice but to hurry on his way.
He tied a towel around her wrist and held it firmly to stop the bleeding, continuously whispering in her half-awake ear, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here, let’s go to the hospital, you’ll be fine in a few minutes…”, occasionally urging the driver to drive faster.
The driver cursed helplessly. To get down the hill to the town, they had to pass through the small road by the university. It was the end of the night classes, and the narrow road was filled with pedestrians, motorcycles, and one or two of the rich man’s brand-name cars, and within a short distance, they were stuck in the crowd and the cars, too. She came to her senses suddenly, and told him, “Listen, it’s Bacha… Bacha… “
“What?” All he heard was the radio call-in program blaring from the cabbie’s car stereo, and the host was berating the government for its incompetence.
“Baha, average rate…”
“Is that the average rate I borrowed from you? Yeah, that’s nice isn’t it?” He was beginning to worry if she’d lost a lot of blood before he’d rushed into her room and was making steady progress toward death.
“I heard the penultimate song on the CD… I’ve always loved that one…” she rambled on.
“Yes, it’s the Prelude in B minor, isn’t it?” He started to worry: “Can’t you hurry up, Mr. Luck?”
“You then have seen ah! There are people in front of me, I can’t do anything about it! Or you can carry her and run, run down the hill and then call a car faster!” The driver was still worried that someone would die in his car.
He jumped out of the car with her in his arms and squeezed inside the crowd, the students on the path didn’t seem to see him holding the patient, still chatting and strolling on their own, he dodged left and right, it was hard to move an inch, a slip of the foot, he fell to the ground with her in his arms and she crouched on top of him, babbling nonsense.
He looked upward and saw the night sky, dotted with stars, and suddenly he seemed to hear Bach’s B-minor prelude as well, a long, languid melody that climbed and fell without finding its way out, a meteor swiftly crossing the sky, and with all his strength he had been unable to get up, and they had been obliterated by the crowd, and had been left unnoticed lying on the ground, bleeding and crouched over him, about to die, with her.
(concluded)