The sun is far gone to fall on others now. We have slipped into some other course through the long night,
Places far from the path, in luke-warm allotments, one thing does not lead onto another, I could give you a regime, if you like, but the lion is getting hungry. It circles in the neighbours garden. If you drop one in its tank, a snake shooting into some frightened mouse can become lion-like, so too a beast in the grass can become serpentine. Turn red little eyes up against the glass; wait for a new pill to take. I read about days and the days begin to pass. In his many roomed mansion, young Caladore is paddling over the lake, three days and nights I've stayed up late, I've seen the first thin rays of light come in. When the sun comes up I'm less awake. A few old voices mutter in the corner.