S.K. Rizzolo

At dusk in the Temple Gardens the barrier between past and present turned fluid and ghosts walked. Here and there if Buckler looked closely he caught a glimpse of knights filing toward the ancient round Church, heads bowed in penitence_Buckler didn__ mind the spirits. In fact, he preferred their company to that of the general run of human. For the ghosts reminded him that man__ petty cares, so all consuming in life, would one day become nothing more than fit matter for an amusing story.