“And from this kernel of cosmic matter I regrow the foot lost in the grotto slowly hour by hour watching the changes in this placid reservoir, and I drift into sleep and out again and the world turns and churns its constituents, and suddenly from some deep cellar within me I feel the call of a secret wish, and it lashes me with tongues of passion and I regenerate pieces of my mind I had forgotten I had lost in an eruption of light and the sensation of falling and my breathers begin to shrink away from the cold of the water and fold up inside of my body and become as bubbles, and I cannot breathe, and I desire more than anything to kiss the hot rocks above and breathe that liquid air--I latch onto this golden root and crawl toward the sun where a new world awaits and I already see a strange being watching my metamorphosis.”