"This is a very bad book you're writing, I said to myself behind my leaks. "I know, I said. "You're afraid you'll kill yourself the way your mother did, I said. "I know, I said. There in the cocktail lounge, peering out through my leaks at a world of my own invention, I mouthed this word: schizophrenia. The sound and appearance of the word had fascinated me for many years. It sounded and looked to me like a human being sneezing in a blizzard of soapflakes."