The mask remains firmly in control of the destiny of its wearer. It is not inconceivable to consider a masked metaphor, skin-tight, as something with the potential of being unveiled, made naked, preparedÖConsider the ëstuffí of the mask as matter in a materialist paradise, as the infinite layers of a pungent, tear-inducing universe. The flashes of bourgeois conscience, the puddle-sickness of frogs, the one-way pillow-poetry, the attraction to cloaks, blankets, and comfortersóall these attend this need to go out in drag: in oneís best bad disguise. The mask has no depth; it is all surface; and like the point of zero magnitude, it enjoys the whole mythology of surface optics.