In the lost library, I step forward because I am his mother, and the features shift beneath the hood. Now the face is Augustine, and as I take another step, Monica. When I retreat, I see Adeodatus again, as if emerging from behind a cloud. I step back, around, forward, and the face changes with each movement. This is the familiar geometry of death. I see him, but I cannot touch him. I cannot reach him from here.