I can only say those words of hers gave me wings - not just her words, but also the brush of her hand; that discreet, seemingly casual, perhaps truly accidental brush of her gentle fingers literally had the same effect on me as the breath of the Holy Spirit, the mysterious flurry of Paraclete's wings, so much so that I dashed past the station at almost a hundred and leapt onto Blednik Bridge no slower; on the Great Avenue I went even faster, and in a single hop I was at the Opera.