He raised the lights and recoiled from her, she thought she could see why. She had, for a brief moment, become interested in it. This was a cardinal sin; you could not become interested in the illness. You could not lavish on it the love and solicitation you had previously lavished on the self, even though it was the thing that the self had been replaced by. You could not, though the brain told you to do it, laugh out loud: that it looked so much like a creature, in a painting of deep time.
