An eyelash—Taylor—Henbane and lily of the valley.
Night. Green, orange, blue. The red royal instrument. The yellow dress. Then a brass Buddha. Suddenly it lifted the brass eyelids and sap began to flow from it, from Buddha. Sap also from the yellow dress. Even in the mirror—drops of sap, and from the large bed and from the children’s bed and soon from myself. … It is horror, mortally sweet horror! …