As he sat still, the current drifted him downwards, down to

the groin of the old man.

Here it was soft and cool.

There were curious and pleasurable sensations

that trembled through his body.

The pouch was so thin and cool

the parasite felt that he was almost outside the body.

Yes, it was here that he understood the notion of something outside

the old man.

The old man did not extend infinitely outwards.

He, too, was finite, bounded, less glorious, more mortal.

Somehow this made the parasite sad.

He had been hoping to map endless regions within the old man.

As it was, the old man was hardly an island, the extent of which was

no longer a subject of conjecture.