Edges, walls, doors ...
	Once a space was enclosed it became a universe of its own. Some things
remained trapped in it.
	The music passed through on side of her head and out the other, but
with it came other things, strands of things, echoes of old screams ...
	She drifted down further, down below the conscious, into the darkness
beyond the circle of firelight.
	There was fear here. It stalked the place like a great dark animal.
It lurked in every corner. It was in the stones. Old terror crouched in the
shadows. It was one of the most ancient terror, the one that meant that no
sooner had mankind learned to walk on two legs than it dropped to its knees.
It was the terror of impermanence, the knowledge that all this would pass
away, that a beautiful voice or a wonderful figure was something whose arrival
you couldn't control and whose departure you couldn't delay. It wasn't what
she had been looking for, but it was perhaps the sea in which it swam.

				Terry Pratchett, Masquerade