The sun begins to dry out the mud. Young girls, naked, came out of the brush and dance around the column of mud. They pick leaves and fruit and shells and place them on the column. They are remaking my body. The rhythm of the drumming starts a heartbeat inside the column.
Blood vessels spread and bring life to what is becoming living tissue.
I finish reincorporating on the driveway of my house. He appears sitting in an arm chair suspended before me. I look for what it is that keeps him from enjoying life. I look into his heart. It has a hole in it, or more like a deformed, dark area where the muscles have hardened and lost their elasticity.