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his spine, and he felt capable of weaving a reality from the image of caressing the sun. It shone pre- cise within the shape of a cone, of which he was the bottom point. He watched himself begin to spin up along the walled rays of fiber. The sun in its circular expanse became to him the last embrace of time; He knew through his bones the rush of suicide- al joy. It was like the laughter of an insane child of unexplainable knowledge; As soon as his body left the crew's nest to twist up the sun cone shape, the apprehension of sinking or dream falling no longer remained; It was a blazing blinding yellow, yet he experienced no heat; His body stayed streamlined, and he spun up a swirled dervish figure, like an ex- cellent top. There was no need of controled balance. He was certain that the gift of his will to the high executing force of the coned sun was enough, for he stayed in form as if he were beyond struggle. Only the immense light made him shudder, for if this were real his mind would eventually have to burn out. He climbed within the cone; his sweep being wider, with the seconds. For huge moments in motion his swirling was soundless, himself capsuled within a structured vessel of unlimited time. There he would encounter great bursts of wind, heard, yet