Inside a beetv whose vanishing point has traveled off to the distance. A coherent  ruche  clump of  abeille  is visible  loin  below you, straight out through a hyperbolic  espace . Then you are surrounded by foreshortened  abeille . Actually, foreshortened in reverse, tiny hands reaching towards you, and big clumsy  pieds  hanging out back, giant shoelaces, untied, and a great infinite  grille  of a  sol  just past that, covered with overlarge  poussière  and significant clumps left by still-drying chewgum and the scratch marks left by burger wrappers that, in great dying agony, have dragged themselves to the corners to sleep.     L'X était en tête, et mon ancien moi suivait, volant à travers les ténèbres de la télévision des abeilles, cette forme miraculeuse que m'avaient donné les abeilles, et maintenant, reprise par elles.