Desperate to avoid aggravating his wounds by attempting to tidy up the debris, Arthur placed his puppets on the equally battered stool by his bed and left their remains to waste. He lay back, kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his jacket. Above him the mood had changed; the alcohol had set in. His parents were laughing, dancing and singing along to Vo-Do-Do-De-O Blues. The music was distorted and skipped occasionally; the record had been played a few times too many. Once more, dust fell from the ceiling; it too danced across the room, and as if dropped by a fairy, it seemed to glitter in the light.
His eyes were dragged up towards the solitary caged light dangling in the middle of the room. The light appeared brighter than before, bearing down, consuming him. His empty gut was pulling in all the energy of his body. He became light-headed. His senses numbed and all bodily boundaries began to disappear. He felt enormous and expansive like he could reach the distant stars and digest their cosmic energy. He was the pulse of the water, the convulsions of the earth, the breath of the wind and the explosive heat of the fire.