see things perfectly well, but that only now, here at the cemetery was I seeing that I should have thought the same thoughts as Ionic Man, I should have thought like that and from that moment on I would think in terms of the crime and casualties pages, like monks… oh dear, that doorstep Ionic Man had brought me, yes, it would have been none other than a step from the destroyed and defunct monastery in Sadská, any house of Augustinians would bring one step from Rome with them, and this will have been the step mounted by scribacious monks, who wrote and gilded beautiful codexes in response to the crime and calamities pages, those memento mori… Chirpily and gleefully I said: “Mr Ionic, give me your hand, you’ve opened my eyes, my inner eyes, that white hat of yours has taught me to see, only now can I see things I haven’t been seeing, but that you have seen…” And Ionic Man stood there and he had a radiant glow — how could I have missed it before? — his hat, it wasn’t the kind that cowboys wear, but a halo in the form of a hat, a circlet floating over a man whose powers were akin to those of the Holy Spirit… the very essence of being.