I CLUNG TO THE BALCONY RAILING, AMAZED BY THE CLOUDS THAT SUDDENLY REMINDED ME OF THE DAMP SPOTS ON THE CEILING OF MR. TRAYTER’S CLASSROOM. IT SEEMED TO ME THAT I WOULD SEE IN THEM ALL THE DISORDERED FANTASIES OF MY CHILDHOOD, BURIED IN MY OBLIVION AND MIRACULOUSLY RESURRECTED IN THE GLORY OF THE FLESH AND THE FOAM OF THE FULGURANT CUMULUS OF LIGHT. WINGED HORSES SWELLED THEIR BREASTS FROM WHICH ALL THE BREASTS, MELONS AND DIABOLOS OF MY DESIRE FLOURISHED. ONE OF THE CLOUDS, IN THE SHAPE OF MAN