'No hallowed skein of stars can ward, I trow'

[Michael Bailey]

and even more incoherently...because I think I came close to making a
couple good points, and I can't accept that that is as good as it's
likely to get...


a) Is she developing in successive stages of disburthenment, as
emblematized in her progressive undressing at Echo Court - at first in
a lovely home (complete fantasy)
then watching TV (insulated in the Tube)
then, closer to corporeal reality, watching a play
then a stockholder's meeting
then umm a couple other things
then out on the street
and then - lower yet - amongst academics
and finally bottoming out among philatelists


b) Aren't there some particles still present (in homeopathic strength)
of a fairy tale antecedent to this story: Goldilocks ?



-- 
"What's the story, morning glory?  What's the word, hummingbird?" -
from Bye Bye Birdie