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"  She stole the keys. She stole the car. She stole into the night that is already morning on the dashboard clock: 3:26 a.m., 01.09.08. It is too late and too early and too soon to tell if Michelle Williams has pushed her luck. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll take my chances,&amp;quot; the actress says, turning the engine over, breathing warmth into her cupped hands. The snow is falling, the digital seconds flashing, the wipers swiping as a man on the radio sings a twangy country tune, &amp;quot;Goodbye ole paint, I&amp;#039;m a leavin&amp;#039; Cheyenne...,&amp;quot; cutting the cold, sleeping silence of this Swedish industrial town. In the windows of the dark houses, electric candelabra glow, still burning from Christmas nearly three weeks past. The black iced road glistens, curving this way and that way, down, down, down the mountain, away from the old Albert Hotel, which has opened especially for her. A mansion dating from 1857, it perches on a cliff above Trollh\u00E4ttan, home to a Saab factory, wondrous waterfalls, and the G\u00F5ta \u00C3lv River, where, local legend has it, large trolls live. Literally translated, Trollh\u00E4ttan is Trolls&amp;#039; Hood, and the residents are not to be taken lightly. In the midst of their watery stomping ground is M\u00EDmir&amp;#039;s Well, owned and operated by M\u00EDmir, a Norse deity renowned for his wisdom (and a striking resemblance to Kris Kristofferson). It is said that anyone who drinks from his well has the power to see the future. Odin gave an eye for the privilege, and in peering through Time&amp;#039;s keyhole, he never smiled again. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m obsessed with water,&amp;quot; Williams says. &amp;quot;The scene in Brokeback Mountain when I open the door and see Heath and Jake kiss? Everyone was outside and I was in this hallway by myself, and I just kept thinking, I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship.&amp;quot; An open bag of Veggie Booty sits between the seats. This would belong to Matilda Rose Ledger, age two. She is named after the Roald Dahl children&amp;#039;s classic Matilda\u2014a girl born of beastly parents but blessed with magical powers that make her feel as if she&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;flying past the stars on silver wings.&amp;quot; Stop the car. Stop the clock, the song, the snow. Let&amp;#039;s go back to the hotel and look through the keyhole from the other side and see things as they were, see them as they were, before what we now know happened. There in the Albert&amp;#039;s cozy, candlelit front room, Matilda, a dark-eyed, blond, bobbed imp, is working her magic, coaxing a serious, bespectacled waiter named Peter into a smile with her impressive vocabulary, impeccable manners, and a few yoga tricks, ending on her back in straddle splits, with her feet pulled up to her ears. It doesn&amp;#039;t take a swig from the well to foretell that Matilda is going to be an actress. Or a Cirque du Soleil star. In the wake of applause, she stands, smooths her beige dress over pale pink tights, and asks, &amp;quot;Mommy, will you chase me now?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s not chasing time, Matilda, it&amp;#039;s simmer-down time,&amp;quot; Williams says, scooping her up, kissing her forehead. &amp;quot;Come on, you can watch Wonder Pets in bed before you go to sleep.&amp;quot; Mother, daughter, and nanny have settled into a suite above the sitting and dining rooms in the hotel. The rest of the cast and crew of Mammoth, the movie she is here shooting, are lodged in an adjacent building. Williams has braved Sweden in the dead of winter to film the relationship drama\u2014as dark and disquieting as the mythical environs\u2014opposite Gael Garc\u00EDa Bernal. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m here for three weeks,&amp;quot; she says, adding with a smile, &amp;quot;any longer than that and I&amp;#039;d have to be medicated.&amp;quot; From the top of the stairs, Matilda calls down, &amp;quot;Peter! Peter! Goodnight Peter!&amp;quot; With Matilda safe and sound asleep, Williams sits in the dining room, where candles burn on every table and every table is empty. Dressed in black jeans, a button-down shirt, and an argyle sweater, she is boyishly slight. Her features\u2014lips, cheeks, liquid brown eyes\u2014are full. She has only one dimple, there on her right cheek, but what the other cheek lacks, this dimple makes up in depth. Her blond hair is short, in what she considers an awkward growing-out stage, and full of bobby pins. &amp;quot;Bobby pins are my favorite jewelry,&amp;quot; Williams says. &amp;quot;There&amp;#039;s nothing sexier than bobby pins.&amp;quot; She gasps suddenly. &amp;quot;That moment in Lolita, when Humbert Humbert is driving into the cow pasture and fingering the bobby pin? Goose bumps!&amp;quot; Even now. Smiling, she pulls up a sleeve revealing her goose-bumped arm. Her smiles come easily but are complicated, never carefree. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m always aware of the whole,&amp;quot; Williams says. &amp;quot;I have that feeling inside, like when something really tickles or delights me\u2014it&amp;#039;s not singular. I recognize all the awful things in the world, and in spite of them, I can still laugh.&amp;quot; This hyperawareness has come at a price. &amp;quot;For so long, I felt like a walking open wound everywhere I went,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;There&amp;#039;s this Joan Didion quote about being afflicted from an early age with a presentiment of loss. Did I come into the world like that? Or was I kind of gifted that?&amp;quot;  Like extrasensory perception, you either have it or you don&amp;#039;t. It&amp;#039;s a poignant, painful, and appealing quality that cannot be acted. &amp;quot;Your heart just races to her,&amp;quot; says the director Ang Lee, who cast Williams in her Oscar-nominated role in Brokeback Mountain. &amp;quot;I needed that for the part of the dejected wife\u2014the least interesting, dullest part you can imagine. But Michelle in this role\u2014you want to know what happened in her life, clearly a tragic one. You&amp;#039;re never told, but you want to find out.&amp;quot; It was on Lee&amp;#039;s set that Williams and her costar Heath Ledger famously fell in love. &amp;quot;They were so sweet together,&amp;quot; Lee tells me in a January 19 interview, three days before Ledger&amp;#039;s death. &amp;quot;I ran into Heath at the Venice Film Festival, and he told me about the split. I just felt so sad. I didn&amp;#039;t know what to say to him. They made a great effort.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;It was so heartbreaking to watch that not work out,&amp;quot; says the director Todd Haynes, calling later the same day. The couple took roles in I&amp;#039;m Not There, Haynes&amp;#039; experimental Bob Dylan biopic, with Ledger as one of six Dylan incarnates and Williams as the Edie Sedgwicky socialite Coco Rivington. &amp;quot;You can&amp;#039;t fault either of them. Really, two of the most extraordinary people,&amp;quot; Haynes continues. &amp;quot;True artists, naked and stripped-down as they approach their craft. Different people with different temperatures and rhythms, exploring themselves.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;All in all, how long has it been?&amp;quot; Williams says, nestled in an overstuffed chair in the hotel, holding a glass of red wine. Looking up at the ceiling, she measures the time passed since their engagement ended. &amp;quot;Six months. It&amp;#039;s been long and not long. It feels like yesterday and it feels like years ago, but not six months. The distraction of work is utterly invaluable. When I have too much free time, that&amp;#039;s when things start to get a little messy.&amp;quot; Tears pool in her eyes. She smiles one of those smiles. &amp;quot;Matilda&amp;#039;s the prize. She&amp;#039;s bigger to me than any relationship, bigger than the awards. She&amp;#039;s what came out of it.&amp;quot;  I&amp;#039;m Not There was the first glamorous turn for Williams, who&amp;#039;s more comfortable tamping down her loveliness in films like The Station Agent, The Baxter, Me Without You, and Land of Plenty (a movie Wim Wenders wrote expressly for her). Which is why playing a femme fatale opposite Ewan McGregor and Hugh Jackman in her new film, an as yet untitled thriller, was &amp;quot;more strenuous than other roles because maintaining that kind of presence\u2014fake nails, hair extensions\u2014there was a lot of artifice to it. It feels like it doesn&amp;#039;t allow room for other emotions.&amp;quot; Self-promotion is not one of her talents. A voracious reader and collector of books (among her possessions is a first edition of The Great Gatsby), Williams would much rather talk about what she&amp;#039;s reading (A Field Guide to Getting Lost) or how she&amp;#039;s voting (Hillary), or even giving birth. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s all about water,&amp;quot; she begins. &amp;quot;I was in and out of the bathtub my entire labor\u201424 hours. I don&amp;#039;t remember the pain, or the sensation. But I do remember quietly talking to myself and saying, `Okay, you don&amp;#039;t have to tell anybody what you&amp;#039;re thinking right now. You don&amp;#039;t have to tell Heath, you don&amp;#039;t have to tell the nurse, you don&amp;#039;t have to tell the doctor: You are never, ever doing this again. It can be a secret just for us.&amp;#039;&amp;quot; She laughs. &amp;quot;I was trying to tell myself, `Remember what I&amp;#039;m saying now: This pain is too great to bear. You won&amp;#039;t do this again.&amp;#039; And here I am today, and the next one I&amp;#039;ll do at home! You totally forget. It&amp;#039;s nature&amp;#039;s trick.&amp;quot;  Like the time flying by: 3:17 a.m. The candles have burned down, and all in the Albert are deep in dreams\u2014even Peter, who said god natt hours ago. Trollh\u00E4ttan&amp;#039;s taxi company has called it a night too. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll get the keys to the production manager&amp;#039;s car,&amp;quot; Williams says, tiptoeing off. She returns, twirling the keychain on her index finger. Even at 27, she doesn&amp;#039;t look old enough to drive.  Goodbye ole paint, I&amp;#039;m a leavin&amp;#039; Cheyenne...&amp;quot;Look at the signs,&amp;quot; Williams says, pointing through the frosted windshield at a fork in the road. &amp;quot;You can&amp;#039;t tell if they say one way or do not enter or stop or you&amp;#039;re lost.&amp;quot; Or troll crossing. Is she lost? &amp;quot;No, we just keep going down and then over the bridge and we&amp;#039;ll land at your hotel.&amp;quot; She laughs. &amp;quot;Oh, I&amp;#039;m going down a one-way street the wrong way.&amp;quot; As for finding her way back alone: &amp;quot;If I just keep taking the turn that takes me up, I&amp;#039;ll be fine.&amp;quot; From the Albert, the Film i V\u00E4st studios are a brisk, 30-minute walk away, along the river. The &amp;quot;V&amp;quot; on the neon sign has burnt out. Many of Sweden&amp;#039;s feature-length films are shot on these soundstages, hence Trollh\u00E4ttan&amp;#039;s nickname, Trollywood. Mammoth is the production of Swedish director Lukas Moodysson, considered by many to be the next Ingmar Bergman. Inside, a command has been posted on the faux elevator door that opens on to a set transformed into a SoHo loft: Remove Your Shoes. Though it&amp;#039;s midafternoon and already dark outside, manufactured sunlight is streaming through the apartment windows. Whoever lives in this scene has large amounts of money and taste: abstract art, midcentury-modern furniture, silk Persian rugs on black lacquered floors. Copies of The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal sit on the dining table. Bikes are mounted on the \u00ADexposed brick wall; one skateboard leans against another. All that&amp;#039;s missing from this Manhattan residence is the muffled sound of city traffic and sirens.  Stocking-footed crewmembers stand silent and frozen, facing the bedroom, where Gael Garc\u00EDa Bernal puts on a jacket, walks to the bed, and wakes Williams with a kiss goodbye. Sleepy-headed and smiling, she wraps her arms around his neck and asks him please not to leave so soon: &amp;quot;Come back,&amp;quot; she says, kissing his neck, his cheek. &amp;quot;Come back to bed.&amp;quot; But he has to go. A business trip. He&amp;#039;ll be home soon.  Moodysson has them do it again. And, &amp;quot;One more time.&amp;quot; And, &amp;quot;Great, let&amp;#039;s do another.&amp;quot; Got it. Williams dons a red Chinese robe and satin ballet slippers and beaming, crosses the loft to give a hug hello.  She waves Garc\u00EDa Bernal over and introduces him. The actor, who arrived yesterday, got food poisoning on the plane. But even green and queasy, he is, as Williams puts it, &amp;quot;so beautiful! Our first day of shooting, and I&amp;#039;ve had to spend the morning in bed with him.&amp;quot; She smiles like, Hey, who&amp;#039;s complaining? Williams leads the way upstairs to her dressing room, where, in lieu of her name, a color Xerox picture of her with Matilda is taped to the door. Lying on the daybed is her Mammoth script, its margins filled with endless notes. &amp;quot;Between `Action!&amp;#039; and `Cut!&amp;#039; is the only time when there&amp;#039;s no judgment in my life,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;Something in my head switches off. It&amp;#039;s the only time when I&amp;#039;m not worrying about what I say or how I sound or what funny thing my mouth is doing. It&amp;#039;s just...it&amp;#039;s almost\u2014it feels like being some kind of savant or something. The rest of my life feels so controlled and careful and self-conscious.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s interesting she feels that way,&amp;quot; says Sharon Maguire, who directed Bridget Jones&amp;#039;s Diary and Williams in the upcoming Incendiary. &amp;quot;The character she plays uses sex as an anesthetic to this scary, insane world we live in.&amp;quot; Incendiary stars Williams as a mother who loses her son and husband in a terrorist attack. &amp;quot;And it sounds as if acting provides that same relief for Michelle.&amp;quot; Maguire is calling from the Sundance Film Festival on January 21, where the movie premiered the night before. &amp;quot;People gave her performance a standing ovation. I wish she could have been here to lap some of that up. She&amp;#039;s so hard on herself as a performer.&amp;quot;  In more ways than one. &amp;quot;Michelle gets really drawn to characters who are forced into a brutal truth,&amp;quot; says fine-art photographer Dan Estabrook, a close friend. The indie film Train Choir casts her as a woman slipping into homelessness in Portland, Oregon. A harrowing role to render, but for Williams it was &amp;quot;a very healing \u00ADprocess,&amp;quot; she says. &amp;quot;[Heath and I] had broken up\u2014way before it became a news story\u2014and I didn&amp;#039;t know where to go. I couldn&amp;#039;t imagine any place in the world that was gonna feel good to me.&amp;quot; The movie&amp;#039;s director, Kelly Reichardt, a friend of Todd Haynes, had offered her the part ages ago, but the timing wasn&amp;#039;t right. And then, suddenly, sadly, unexpectedly, it was. &amp;quot;Right after we broke up, I said, `I gotta go do this thing. It&amp;#039;s going to be the perfect place for me, for Matilda. We just need to go away,&amp;#039;&amp;quot; Williams says. &amp;quot;We made the best friends in Portland. We lived with people, at their house. And they&amp;#039;ve become surrogate grandparents for Matilda and surrogate parents for me. I just have the fondest memories of \u00ADbeing there and playing this \u00ADlonely, drifting soul. &amp;quot;Whatever I&amp;#039;ve suffered, I feel like the work I get to do is an absolute blessing,&amp;quot; she adds. &amp;quot;Because whatever I feel inside, it has a place to go. It just saves me over and over and over again.&amp;quot; All the rich, complex characters that have come her way are payback for her years of servitude as the slutty cipher Jen Lindley on Dawson&amp;#039;s Creek. The road there led from her birthplace, Kalispell, Montana, to San Diego, where she was home-schooled, to Holly\u00ADwood, where at 15 she emancipated herself and was quickly cast, along with Busy Philipps and Katie Holmes, on the cult teen drama. At 16, she was living in North Carolina filming Dawson&amp;#039;s Creek, and &amp;quot;I thought I was going to get married there to this boy, Andy, who was in this indie band called the Comas,&amp;quot; Williams says, bemused. &amp;quot;I had a big Asheville fantasy up and running for awhile.&amp;quot; She says that when she heard the news that Holmes was dating Tom Cruise, &amp;quot;I was shocked. Busy called and said, `You&amp;#039;re never going to believe who Katie&amp;#039;s with now.&amp;#039; And I&amp;#039;m like, `Who?&amp;#039; And she said, `Who&amp;#039;s the biggest movie star that you can think of?&amp;#039; I said\u2014this is embarrassing\u2014`Tom Selleck?!&amp;#039;&amp;quot; After serving out her six-year contract\u2014&amp;quot;I was in jail&amp;quot;\u2014Williams found freedom on the New York stage in the critically acclaimed Killer Joe and then in Mike Leigh&amp;#039;s comically subversive Smelling a Rat. &amp;quot;I remember being bowled over,&amp;quot; recalls Linda Emond, who became a good friend years later when they costarred in a Williamstown Theatre Festival production of The Cherry Orchard. &amp;quot;She was so fantastically odd, totally on her own planet. It was a freakishly brilliant performance, very idiosyncratic, startling.&amp;quot; Offstage, Williams was living among the rats in a Lower East Side apartment. &amp;quot;It stank,&amp;quot; says Estabrook, who met her through the singer Ben Lee. &amp;quot;She had this romantic idea of an old garret.&amp;quot; Williams laughs at this: &amp;quot;It was on top of a fish market. It was miniscule, tiny, awful blue-linoleum floor, this fluorescent lightbulb that was the only light source in the entire room. A bed and a rack of clothes and books and me. We called it the Panic Room.&amp;quot; Even so, &amp;quot;I look back on it fondly. I did it to myself. Like wearing a hair shirt. I was making money, yet I chose to live in the Panic Room.&amp;quot; It was Estabrook who rescued her, persuading Williams to move to Brooklyn. He&amp;#039;s the kind of stand-up guy friend every complicated, beautiful girl needs. &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;s easily my favorite person on the planet,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;I can tell her anything and she can tell me anything back. She&amp;#039;s intellectual and small and gentle and sweet and not vicious or nasty or putting on some front, just full of kindness and wonder.&amp;quot; So what&amp;#039;s up with them not dating? Estabrook laughs. &amp;quot;This is the way it&amp;#039;s meant to be for us,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;This way we&amp;#039;ll never lose each other.&amp;quot; Sunday, January 20. Williams calls from 3,760 miles away. It is late evening in Trollh\u00E4ttan and she is out on her balcony &amp;quot;staring at the river, counting all these stars,&amp;quot; and from the sound of her exhaling, smoking a cigarette too. &amp;quot;Yes,&amp;quot; she admits. &amp;quot;But it&amp;#039;s organic!&amp;quot; She&amp;#039;s also counting the days until she&amp;#039;ll be home. &amp;quot;Three more,&amp;quot; she says excitedly, as unaware as the rest of the world that it will be sooner than that.  &amp;quot;We were in the car today,&amp;quot; she continues, &amp;quot;driving back from this indoor playspace, and Matilda started talking to herself in the back. She said, `I&amp;#039;d like an everything bagel with butter, please!&amp;#039; She&amp;#039;s such a New York kid. That&amp;#039;s what she&amp;#039;s thinking about: \u00ADgoing home. Every morning we go to the coffee shop. She&amp;#039;s ready to go back and get her bagel, and I&amp;#039;m ready to get a really good cup of coffee.&amp;quot;  This reminds her of a favorite poem she discovered, &amp;quot;when I was, like, really skimming the bottom. I was in this hotel and I reached over into the bedside table for, I don&amp;#039;t know what\u2014a phone book, some matches, the Bible, something\u2014and inside it was an old copy of The Paris Review. And the first poem was by this guy named Galway Kinnell. And I read it and I felt safe and understood by the world for the first time.&amp;quot; So much so that she&amp;#039;s become a Galway groupie, attending his readings. She even wrote him a letter. &amp;quot;There&amp;#039;s this one poem called `Little Sleep&amp;#039;s-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight.&amp;#039; It&amp;#039;s about being a parent\u2014I loved it even before I had a kid\u2014and the last lines are, `When I come back/ we will go out together,/ we will walk out together among/ the ten thousand things,/ each scratched in time with such knowledge, the wages/ of dying is love.&amp;#039;&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;For a long time the last line utterly mystified me. The wages of dying is love? Like, the price of dying is love? The cost? No. For \u00ADdying you&amp;#039;re paid in love. Because you have to die, you get to experience love. Finally decoded!&amp;quot; She sighs. &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re going to die when you read this poem. He places so much esteem and knowledge in the face and the body of a newborn.&amp;quot;  There is a theory that we all come into this world with a set emotional age. And for Williams, &amp;quot;all of my life, up until very \u00ADrecently, even as a very small child, I felt like the age that I am now, 27. I had so much responsibility and pressure and experience and, um, hurt. I really give a lot of credit to that girl who felt older than I was. Now I feel right where I am, I actually feel 27!&amp;quot;  Then again, &amp;quot;When Heath and I first broke up, I did not feel 27. I felt 67. I was like, I&amp;#039;m too young to be feeling like this. I was 26 when we broke up.&amp;quot; It wasn&amp;#039;t Williams&amp;#039; first heartbreak. &amp;quot;But it was,&amp;quot; she says, &amp;quot;the first time I wasn&amp;#039;t expecting my heart to be broken.&amp;quot;  She goes back inside, where it&amp;#039;s warm. &amp;quot;Log onto Pathetica.net and click on `artwork&amp;#039;,&amp;quot; she says, directing me to Estabrook&amp;#039;s website. She goes online too. &amp;quot;That picture\u2014Bleed\u2014that&amp;#039;s my hand.&amp;quot; The sepia-tinted photograph is of a woman&amp;#039;s hand, bleeding \u00ADstigmata-like, with the blood being caught in a man&amp;#039;s cupped hand.  Her hands, small and lovely, are also in a particularly beautiful piece called Little Comfort, in which one of her fingers is tied with a string. &amp;quot;Now click on Nine Symptoms,&amp;quot; she instructs. &amp;quot;Dan&amp;#039;s thesis is that the symptoms for love are the same as the symptoms for sickness. I have four of these pieces in my living room. So the `symptoms&amp;#039; I have are Shortness of Breath, Fever, Euphoria, and Sleeplessness.&amp;quot; The last piece, a man&amp;#039;s finger tied with a string, is the mirror of Little Comfort. &amp;quot;That image is so evocative to me that it makes me all tingly, like waiting for something to come, trying not to panic. It makes me actually feel nauseous when I think about it,&amp;quot; Williams says. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t love anything more than his work. It&amp;#039;s so moving to me in a visceral way. Dan has to art direct to make a living. He art directs, like, Rolaids commercials.&amp;quot;  The future is yours to see if you drink from M\u00EDmir&amp;#039;s well, although his name more or less translates in English as &amp;quot;memory.&amp;quot; And time is running out for remembering the way they were. Heath Ledger will die today\u2014January 22\u2014of an accidental prescription-drug overdose, in his rented Manhattan loft. A terrible shock.  Hearing the news, I remember, that first night in Sweden, \u00ADWilliams saying how much she loved the quote, &amp;quot;You can never step in the same river twice.&amp;quot; Oh, yes! That&amp;#039;s from W. Somerset Maugham&amp;#039;s The Razor&amp;#039;s Edge, right? &amp;quot;Is it?&amp;quot; she asked, unsure. &amp;quot;A director told me I reminded her of the actress who starred in the original film.&amp;quot; Gene Tierney? A little, maybe. But more Ingrid Bergman, Jean Seberg.  And now I realize that Maugham was actually referencing the philosopher Heraclitus\u2014that must have been what threw \u00ADWilliams\u2014and that the rest of the ancient&amp;#039;s quote is, &amp;quot;for fresh waters are ever flowing in upon you.&amp;quot; There&amp;#039;s some comfort in that. Yes. There is, if they keep flowing.  This is important to remember: That same day, before anyone knew of the sorrow to come, Williams was feeling quietly exhilarated. She was getting ready for bed and sent me an e-mail at the end of her day:  have you found the galway kinnell poem? are you a heap on the floor yet? today was my last day in trollhattan. had a minor breakthrough at work. what more can you ask for, really? to come up against the edge of your own ability and step over the line. a baby step, mind you.  In New York, less than an hour later, the news broke. And after a week of grieving silence, she released a statement to the world, which read, in part, &amp;quot;My heart is broken. I am the mother of the most tender-hearted, high-spirited, beautiful little girl who is the spitting image of her father. All that I cling to is his presence inside her that reveals itself every day.&amp;quot; How old must she feel now?  Williams has told us how Galway Kinnell&amp;#039;s poem ends. Here&amp;#039;s how it begins:  You scream, waking from a nightmare. When I sleepwalk into your room, and pick you up, and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me hard, as if clinging could save us. I think you think I will never die, I think I exude to you the permanence of smoke or stars, even as my broken arms heal themselves around you. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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