I had to climb out of the picture earlier than planned; leaving June still inside and resting on a log (until it dramatically changed into Saint Anthony and the surrounding vegetation into young women with reptile scales). Looking at a circle above his head I wondered if everything eventually returns to where it started out. I later mentioned this to June when we stood like unhammered in nails as the carpenter’s plane removed the last slither of wood from the plank - I am not sure if even he knew what he was making. June and I stayed in the same shell all day even though outside the others had exchanged seas. I sat in an art chair painting tables and she laid on a rock listening to the song of the sirens as an empty ship sailed by with absolutely no one tied to the mast.