You see, Artaud, at 3am they found you. Your long trouser cuffs, tucked under your heels. You were barefoot, wandering the train station all night, all night wandering on scraps of blank paper. You didn't have a ticket. Excuse me sir. Do you have a ticket? You need a ticket in this station. So they took you to the table, (we should have wiped the table before we laid you there) and they laid you there. A kitchen table. Took off your cloths. Oh Artaud, they were holding their breaths, holding your hands, and the gauze, gauze across your chest: a jolt in the forehead, shock on the anus. A teapot, Artaud: poured in, poured out, screaming, you screamed your tongue on your brain. Blue lips. Blue skin. But the blood flowed back to you, like it was going home. So we went home. When you woke you told them the world was round. Indeed, we all agreed, the world is round.