Gone to Araby, be back soon.
Twisting and shouting I ran into the
forest and climbed every last tree
Have you read Joyces "Araby"?
This had me communing with/praying to the reflection of some great crazy-quilted American diety. The very pulse of love. I felt like I was reading a coiled and hissing palsm, and that the she of "make-believe" was the very image of Eve. Beauty-full.