The self I believed in is not precisely irreal, but it is a shield of a kind, held forth to the world from within; a mirror and a transducer, and something which reflects… both blows and beauty, in different ways at different times. Sheltered behind this shield is something holy, and astonishing. Endless forms of self, immanent and disappearing. The urself is like a rainstorm of mysteries and droplets… poems and dreamings… utterances and song.