P.23 When I had ended my story, the creature in tight wrappings laughed
till he shook and his body rattled like a dry gourd.
⠀“My heart,” he explained mirthfully, “is dry as a nut, and rolls
about inside me when I laugh.”
⠀He gave me a slice of funeral cake
as he had promised, and when his mirth had abated I asked: “Is there such
a black-bearded King in the great cemetery yonder?”
⠀But the only
reply was the frantic rattling of his heart.
The dream left a sensation of such bitter loss that I felt life could only
be lived in sleep.
P.55 The areas was unlike anything that he
had ever known; this, he imagined, was woman, the faraway skirted creature
who held the unique power over loneliness, nightmares and warmth.