holding my cheek, swollen with the pain of toothache, I was digging under the tree. muddying my slender fingers in attempting to sow some kind of seed, I dug in the cold ground. ah, I remember it. in the evening of a chilly day at the bottom of a newly-dug hole a movement... an earthworm wriggling. then from behind a low house the moon slid up, stroking the white ear of a woman. the moon slid up.