Scene 1:

[The shelf begins to mold, there is a single pane window outside of which the wind carries on undisturbed]

Tall Candle: I have burnt longer,
Tall Candle: I stand in the window, I have a task and no time.
Tall Candle: My light sets the plane,
Tall Candle: My light distinguishes it as such
Tall Candle: Why won't you talk to me about it anymore?
Tall Candle: When aren't we talking about it
Tall Candle: Nevermind, here it comes
Tall Candle: Brace yourself

We do not normally deal with things as they appear in consciousness.
But we protect them regardless, instinctively raising our hand to protect the flame from the wind, a little Victorian kneejerk, masking a more primordial heat need.

A wax conversation, relief carving on laminated particle board, 2017