Looking Back He broke into our room and laid on my bed as if he were dead, bald angel blocking and shaping the fragile light. I said: gently , then he clambered on top of me. Disoriented by the softness of his lips and the mental image of his empty bed, I couldn’t believe this was happening, so I started to talk. That did not please him. He got up and buried himself in his bed. I had made him uncomfortable. Perhaps, he thought I was afraid he’d have an epileptic attack . My world pyramided with grape baskets leaning like the sea to my hands.