June left the multistorey frying pan before the fried eggs blinked. Just before this I had a put a small part of the cosmos in a porridge bowl and poured on the milk as if it had real spiritual significance. As the door changed into a diaphanous being who had more than one memory in its head (I had already checked and none of them were mine) I spoke to the little man hiding in the cupboard under the sink and then tied up my shoelaces with a pair of trainers June had bought for me in a shop selling lawn mowers. As June drew near perfect circles in the urbanised Giotto landscape I locked myself away in the gaol below the toupee roof and pretended to throw away the key. As I did this I had to shut my eyes as I knew the real key had been thrown away a very long time ago.