"And the eyelids were covered on both the outside and the inside with a tiny cracked clump of clay like substance which raised the lid partially away from the eye itself. Most of the lashes were caked together with what appeared to be a peach coloured wax. And although the lips themselves were dry and flaking, a glistening bead of Daymar varnish had run down from the corner of the mouth and gathered at the base of the ear lobe. It was impossible to tell whether it had dried or not and there was no question of disturbing the imagined membrane surrounding the head with even the softest touch to ascertain this information for fear of creating a disturbance to the false tranquility of the scene. For some reason it was hard not to imagine the tongue (although no part of it was visible) as this collapsed voluminous lump, folding back on itself, broadening at the base to fill most of the esophagus. It's colour came to mind, overlaid purples and yellows - not bruised, just not pink. All isolated from the thinking, making sphere we call the head was the larger bodily bit covered by the splattered suit. A walking, making, thinking insult to the opposite side were it not for the fact that it was slumped uncomfortably in the corner, a wonderful embracing waterlily of a man yet to wake up to the truth of it's own essence."