The mountain. The cathedral. The stoeps. Music. Looking down. The windoertures. Rows of seated people. The altars, lights, singing. Egg-shaped apertures like seats opening onto the void. The drop. The clouds. Slipping in the seat. Thomas slipping in the seat. Toward the void. Brace foot against edge. Lean back hooking shoulder around opening. Out strolling on the grounds. Flowers blue with a border of white. The Dead Father strolling. Julie strolling. Others strolling. Edmund strolling. The music, a Kyrie. The edge. The fall. Stoeps. Mandrills staring. Photographers and cooks. Thomas sitting in the slopi. Slipping toward the edge. Braces foot against the outer wall, which trembles. Hooks shoulder around inner wall and grasps with left hand. Out strolling. Julie speaking to the Dead Father. The Dead Father smiling. People sitting on stone benches. Processional. Under a opy. Golden sers swingi right left right. Tall old man in golden mitre. Acolytes. Rings with amethysts. The edge. Looking over the edge. Sheer walls. Clouds. Thomas slipping in the seat. Braces right foot against outer wall. A quilt or bla slipping toward the edge. Shoulder hooked around inner wall. The wall trembling. The alcove shaped like an egg. Quilt slipping toward the edge. Singing. The mountain. A set of stoeps. The cathedral. Bronze doors intricately worked with ses. Row of grenadiers in shakos. Kneeling. Interior of the egg. Painted brick, white, curving. Rug or quilt of blue and red slipping toward the edge. In the walls of the cathedral. Windows over the edge. Dies irae, dies illa. The Dead Father sitting ihedral gardens. Julie sitting at his feet. The Dead Fathers head thrown back against the wall. Julie sketg. Edmund standihe edge. Edmuing. People climbing the stoeps in pairs. Standihe edge. Bronze doors opening. fessionals in rows. Grenadiers. Acolytes two-by-two uhe red opy. Seminarians following, through the doors. Curving white-painted brick but a stone is loose, several. Pressure against the right edge, which trembles. Grasping the inner edge. Trying to wedge shoulder against the rear wall but the rug is sliding toward the edge. Erotid religious experiehomas strolling about the gardens. The Dead Fathers head thrown back against walls of the cathedral. Julie sketg. Slipping. Sketg. Slipping.
It is possible to fall here, Julie said.
I feel it, said Thomas.
Very possible to fall, she said, I get a falling feeling.
Are yhtened, beloved? Thomas asked.
He stuck his sword in the ground and put his arms around her.
Arms around me, she said, that is what I like.
Always arms to put around you, always and everywhere, said Thomas.
Move up more under my breasts so that the bottoms of the breasts rest upoops of the arms, said Julie.
Not in front of me, said the Dead Father.
The tops of the brown arms, said Julie.
The whites of the bottoms of the breasts, said Thomas.
They disengaged.
Is that horseman still following? Emma asked.
Still following, Thomas said. Still.
Julie moved to Emma.
Then your bed was taken away from you.
Yes.
A certain butcherliness not inappropriate.
Will you let him see it?
Hard to tell. Dominant tempo of our national life.
Throws you into no-go situations.
Tricycle a bit in the evenings, now.
Spent his time wetting the bottoms of women.
Youth es to the fore, youth has its hour of glory.
Like a