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folding like a cloak across curtained heavens. Once above the silver, the sheen gave no chance of see- ing below. If cold and eternally above his levels of strength, he would simply have to ride it out. All suggestions concerning past to projected fut- ure ideas of life for him were illiminated. When the wind would whip, the silver would drop away in a great pocket of expansion, and the texture of clouds would roll out in form below him. But his glide would continue, and change only to currents. Necessity was his only level, and necessity now was letting himself free, so that he might arrive. At times the wind seemed directly to be alive and alarmed with him, and would turn from its force of flow and belt back him, sending him tight in crazy turns. Like being the motion of a missile he kept percise to whatever had flung him, trusting this being the same as its maximum stage of power. Although the wind was mov- ing his mind in patterns, he could not think, but could perceive his energy being attached to speed. He did not have to question the plains of the sky, they overwhelmingly existed if he was to believe in his own condition. From, as in away from his perceptions went the clouds to falling through tunnels of perpetual shape,