I heard about this guy who worked all day and never heard his own heart beating till he dropped his pen one nightful lifeternoon and dropped it through his heart and on its way through it drew a picture there of his ears who heard this and complained of libel. That was how he came to hear his heart, no one knew how. He heard it and thought he must be dying, so he took a gun and shot at his heart, as you would a horse standing there with a broken leg, and as often happens to a horse, the bullet missed and shot the earth where grows our nourishment, and like a horse his heart beat the ground around and around in circles round the dooryard. Feeling his heart trampling through his hearth organs beneath his chest he broke himself open and grabbed his heart by its mein of valves and vessels, lept bareback onto it and forced it to a canter, a trot, a jerk, and at last a walk. Seeing that no one could tell what was happening, seeing his chance to escape, out rode the man through the gate of his open chest bareback on his whinnying heart, called giddyup to his bleeding steed, and left his ribs aching clanging in the stopmotion wake of his kind freedom. And the man’s name was Felix.

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