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how far it goes with the face in his hand lost in the mid-twentieth century Californian hope walking walking toward the horizon with some necessary emotional and moral hairs growing longer and thicker all over his wide chest and an implement, some kind of tool, a twizer, in his mouth, for example, like a x-unknown St Augustine the non-arrowed walking walkking towards the docks, this should be crushingly mighty so he is temptedbnot to believe in the soul, not to believe in the error, blond and long haired, thing and slender, sinnless, as reproduced in the book, until they capture and type down his name, mark his feet, shave his head, his chest, his legs, his armpits, his pubes, his face, possibly a majority of areas still affected by disproportionate virility, then he is placed side by side to St Ignazio di Loyola, the great friend of lawyers but expecially of criminals, they ask him to swear on the Bible and several other\sacred books that he will always let is experience be mediated as a juvenile should do - in his thirtyseven year of maturity, rendered smooth and tamed, reciting Sappho, Dickinson, quoting Alkman, Freud, Hokusai, Audubo, Akhmatova, hopping and uttering all these quote at the same time with multiple voices, as one would expect the appreciator of these properties would do under request. each followed by comments and confessions. Still blonde, although encaved, he is a real adonis.