I would comfort you with apples, if the fragrant fruit of trees could cool your feverish imaginings, could soothe the desperate words hanging from your lips. I would swath you in cloaks the silver of winter foxes, if animal warmth could melt your psyche's icy tirade or fire up the molten joy I know resides at your core. I would share with you the sibilant secrets of the wind, the eternal answers of the sky, the shining proverbs of laughing stars. I do not have the universe's elements to hand; only compassion and fear. I suggest a Guinness, to start.