Into fecund Nothingness, he thought. If you are bitter about nothing then you are into something. Stop thinking now, he told himself. We have the feeling that such thoughts as these, unless we move quickly, isolate us. He couldn't see himself across the street anymore.

He seemed as though you imagined him, turning from the drapes and walking across the room. He seemed that, if you didn't concentrate and pay attention, he might vanish. He had very thin bones.

He dabbled his toes in the air and stretched. Scott made a noise when he yawned.

What do you want for breakfast?", Mirna asked.

"Enchiladas."

"You want enchiladas?"

"Yes Don't you?"

"I probably will after I make them."

She stood up and walked naked through the messy room out of the door. She made enchiladas. Soon Scott walked into the kitchen.

"Doesn't it bother you? All those people getting killed?" she asked handing him the enchiladas.

"When I think about it." He dug his fork into the enchiladas.

"You don't think you ought to think about it?"

He was chewing intently, hungrily.

"After all," she continued, "it could effect you, you know, the world.

"It would effect me more to consort with everyone who agreed with me and picket everyone who didn't."