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He spun with the walls of the cone; Spun with it making circle himself, beneath but upon also its circumference, and again recognition from the occasional sound of the wind boom. But now it was pure lined cone, with no midway to ending. The sun was the sun. The spun cone wound in from light, down past him, back to its and his beginning point of darkness; Back beneath the surface of his unconscious beginning, the sea had developed into green, and so the sky in earth expanse around the first dark parts of coned pin point, into atmosphere of blue. The gray sea and sky with wind the color sound of light rolling sheet steel had been cut by the wait- ing white into the hues of earths demention and tex- ture, and with the next sound of boom he managed in- stead of submitting to the fixed upward stare of his eyes a complete downward pull of viewpoint into the base of the cone. Still he could see only a final dark, but the great dot seemed to tilt to and fro, as if its belowness were being swayed by the bill- ows. Suddenly above the first outward rises of the cone, he noticed round red bubbled flashes stream- ing through. Certainly the cone was changing, his fixation condensed into