operation of t Art of Light and Shade.

    One odd t  (s;leading playerquot; up till t toucer o t cutting room in the sky.

    t of jasmine bloed breat my briefcase: notebook, recorder, tapes. I c tained tape. I , briefcase in o summon ts to stride up to e.

    It e  of zinc be squiggles so you couldnt see to ring te creaked open of its oo let me in and to being, definitive clang. So there I was.

    A plane broke t sealed up again be. Inside t . Nobody came to meet me.

    A flig stone steps led up to a pool surrounded by clumps of s-smelling ree or te summer leaves on scummy er and,  , I started to sell you  untended pool, in  of algae, along y gin bottle.

    On terrace, a couple of rusty, omeria, to be erected for his bride.

    t ere cube of pure glass, it exed try of transparency at its most severe. Yet, just at t moment, it took all t of tting sun into itself and flas glittering lounge gaped open to admit me, and only me, but I t,  stick around on terrace for a  looks like not Sno t to me.

    No sound but tant bass of two; pines, her.

    So I ed. And ed. And I found myself

    of jasmine reminded me of, in order to take my mind off  Boulevard, of course. And I kne t even I nor my blessed mot, o so muche floor.

    I ed until I found myself groient.  of Cinema? Burn a little offering of popcorn and old fan magazines? Offer a libation of Jeyes Fluid mixed h Kia Ora orange?

    I found myself vengefully asserting t I kne  per). I kne