And he does find more figures, enough to feed his addiction. Red figures, always red, almost always the same simple form, leaping and dancing in the darkness of caves up and down the coasts, familiar in their shape now and yet still utterly mysterious in their making. Each time he finds them his heart leaps too and there is a collapse of time, or a coexistence of multiple kinds of time, as the figures dance and flicker in the low light.
