No. 68: Rabbit Redux. Having so recently ascended Nimble Rabbit Mountain, he now felt the urge to sculpt a rabbit in honour of that eccentric, peak experience. He started with a big block of stone, but the longer he worked on it, the more of the stone he scraped and whittled away. It was like cleaning a fish--until there was no fish left at all. He thought then of Giacometti, and managed to put on the brakes in time to leave behind a perky little rabbit that was smaller than the real thing. I need to be less ambitious, he thought to himself. Or more..

No.67: CLOUD BONE WHALE. Suddenly, he was painting big again. He titled this latest work--which was twenty feet square--Cloud Bone Whale, thereby heading-off, he hoped, most of the blockhead interpretations he felt he was likely to hear when the painting was finally exhibited. He was quite anxious to discover what his partner, Rachel Rappaccini, thought of it. She seemed a bit put off, he thought, when she finally visited the studio. "You don't like it?" he asked her/ It's powdery," she told him. "Confectionary bombast!" He was stunned. "Confectionary?" he asked her. "Bombast?" "Candy Floss," said Rachel, with crushing finality.

No. 66: NIMBLE RABBIT MOUNTAIN. He and his friends were on a weekend jaunt into the foothills. Someone photographed him climbing a white hillock that he insisted looked like a rabbit. "It's the old paraeidolia at work," one of them said. "Seeing shapes that aren't really there. It's all projection." He hotly denied it. "The hill is definitely shaped like a rabbit," he maintained, and refused to be persuaded otherwise. "I'm naming it Mount Lapin Agile," he told them.

No.65: SWEET TIME. His friends reproached him for wasting time. He protested. He told them he did not waste time. Rather, he caressed time.