There’s little back roads and little towns sometimes I never heard of them. I start to expect the gas station attendants to know me when I arrive. I get excited that I’ve been there before. I want them to welcome me. I’m disappointed when they don’t. Something that I don’t want to be true starts lookin’ like it’s al that’s true only I don’t know what it is. No. No. I need my marriage. I come here to tell you. I got to stay married. I’m lost without her.

A creature that hides and “withdraws into its shell,” is preparing a “way out.” This is true of the entire scale of metaphors, from the resurrection of a man in his grave, to the sudden outburst of one who has long been silent. If we remain at the heart of the image under consideration, we have the impression that, by staying in the motionlessness of its shell, the creature is preparing temporal explosions, not to say whirlwinds, of being.