- Vol. 04
- Chapter 12
I'm alone, spreadeagled on my beach towel on sand smoothed by wind and tide.
Each day, the sun warms my skin, twice a day the ocean washes it cool again, at night I watch the moon cross the sky.
Sometimes, my arms and legs make a square, sometimes a circle.
The navel is my centre, always. Four cubits make a man. I count the cubits to the centre of the cosmos
while I wait to be born into this world or the next.