But his son, unpopular here for so many years already, is lying in bed, and the placid moon passes on. He is breathing heavily, the boy, and is bathed in a cold sweat. With tablets of that kind in his juice, his sleep is altogether different. Comfortless he lies there under the eye of his mother, who comes to his bed and smooths the covers. The boy is flaccid and yet he is her whole world: he is silent, and so is her world. He is no doubt looking forward to growing up, like his father's member. Tenderly Mother kisses her little boat sailing around the world. Then she takes a plastic bag, slips it over the boy's head, and draws it tight at the bottom so that the child's breath will perish in peace. Under the tent of the back, on which is printed the address of a boutique, the boy's life force burgeons richly one more time, this boy to whom not long ago growing-up and sports gear were promised. That's how it goes when on.e tries to improve on Nature with mechanical implements! But no, the child still wants to live. Then the son drifts out into the open waters where he is immediately quite in his element (Mummy!) and uses the snorkel mask through which his fellows learn to see the world, as if through goo, from the very start: so utterly was he their boss, a little god of war, at work, rest and play. They see everything, yet they do not see much. Mother leaves the house. She is carrying her son in her arms like a budding cutting that has to be planted. From the mountaintops where the boy went sledging today and was planning to go again tomorrow (to be exact, the next day has already been impatiently begun on!), the earth bids its farewell. Outrageous imprints in the blanket of snow. Sure, go wandering about near the fire if you wilclass="underline" quite an experience, eh?
The mother carries the child, and then, when she grows tired, drags him along behind her. Discreetly clad in moonlight. Now the woman is at the stream, and the next moment her son sinks in, contented. Perfect peace is beckoning, and sporting people beckon and wave to each other at every opportunity too, if there's an audience. Now, contrary to expectation, it has turned out to be the youngest of the family who will be permitted to see the stupid face of eternity first, behind all the money that runs about at liberty on the earth, for purchases, if no one puts it on a lead. People compete in races, the events are thunderous but they don't want rain. And skiers go into the mountains, never mind who else lives there and might like to win themselves.
The water has taken hold of the child, and bears him on and away, a good deal will remain of him for a long time in this cold. The mother is alive, her time is wreathed and limited, with fetters she has twined in it. Women age early, and their mistake is not knowing where to hide all the time that lies behind them so that no one sees it. What are they to do, devour it like the umbilical cords of their children? Hell and damnation!
But now rest a while!