“While I was thinking back to my childhood, a vision befell me:” it was a rainy night and the floorboards were “forcing me to look at the floorboards full of marks and scratches” filling with water and “I made a series of drawings”. They consisted of a curious collection of “objects”. It was 1924. I was at , near , which had the effect of “a sudden increase in my visionary faculties”. It was 1942. It was 1924 and two children were threatened by a . There was a city in the distance. I did not know its name. The sky was a diminishing shade of blue, diminishing into a city in the distance. I was “carefree, yet full of hope”. Beneath me ran the path. Beneath me ran the path that led to . But it was 1942. And there was a “third” child (“I was staying at a small hotel by the seaside”). And there was a on the roof. I was staying at a small hotel and “Eva, the only one left” was the only one left. It was 1924—the year of the sphinx—it was raining. It held (it was the only one) the child against the fading sky and prepared to take flight.