There is a chill in my heart; there is a darkness and cold inside my heart; I am disturbed at all these revelations; I am disturbed at everything that has been revealed. For the darkness will come, and cover me over; I shall be extinguished in the night, and ebb away like the tide; I am retreating into myself, constantly retreating into myself; I see a face, and I am the face: I see myself from the outside, and I see only hideousness. I am waist-deep in the soupy translucent water; there is fog all about me, and I do not know what I am doing in this place. Human kidneys are floating toward me, a mass of kidneys floating in the water; and I hear a voice, and the voice says, "Thou art made of stomachs," and I know my stomach is the root of all sickness and blasphemy and abomination, and through and through I am made of the substance of stomachs: the skin of my arm is the outside of the wall of my stomach. There are tribes of men in my stomach involved in all sorts of fire-worship and marching and war (they are all naked and fat), and they all act on the craziest impulses, running about from here to there at random. So here I am, in the soupy translucent water, kidneys floating toward me, coming at me, overtaking me. And so I say, "Certainly my kidneys are really stomachs," and I feel a pain at my sides, for my stomachs have been found out, and the tribes of men in my many stomachs have been discovered.