We cramped
half of lives in half hour hastily; and everything difficult popped out in no
time. ‘I lost the blue painting, ‘out in cold in Toronto’’. He said ‘I will
paint you another one.’ Then both of us queried ‘did you ever get to doing
good?’ Long pauses of mumblings, half there. Then he asked ‘Where is the
book?’; and soul got pinned to the bricks behind me.