Saul is a large, heavy guy. His recessed eyes remind his ancestors in his dreams of themselves before they were dead. He knows when he looks at himself in his unfocused mirror that this is how he appears, and it makes him even sadder. His irrational temper, thus far the source of three psychological studies and two doctoral dissertations, make him unfit for human companionship. He has never ever played sports and is wearing a white T-shirt that says, "Evanescence Rocks" in bold black and purple lettering. The woman chuckles softly at something he cannot see. He silently prays she won't open the detox chamber accidentally, but he made an oath, and doesn't say a thing. Cleanliness is unforgiving. He imagines what extreme gravity might do to youth, and how rearranging the Collectibles section is overdue. He types in the German version: Ein Vogel in der Hand ist besser als zehn über Land. Following Heidegger, we prefer to talk about 'breakdowns.' by this we mean the interrupted moment of our habitual, standard, comfortable 'being-in-the-world.' After a minute or two their senses stopped jangling and the new world opened around them. They floated in that exquisite lighter-than-air hush where you can sometimes catch conversations from a hundred meters down as if you were standing in the next yard. At this point, if you were lucky, you might come onto something rich and strange, up to and including revelation. They stopped to listen but this time no voices came, only the sound of the wind and some croaks and whispers from the envelope. Nothing transcendental this trip, but that was all right. The moment was still joyful. Breakdowns serve an extremely important cognitive function, revealing to us the nature of our practices and equipment, making them 'present-to-hand' to us, perhaps for the first time. In this sense they function in a positive rather than a negative way. New design can be created and implemented only in the space that emerges in the recurrent structure of breakdown. She walks behind a tall shelf. A crystal chandelier tinkles. She is uninterested in the Multiple Eating Disorder Reference Section. Strange, he ventures, most like the pictures. His elbow is in its notch on the counter and his dusty hand cradles his chin. She is a mixture, he decides, of something pretty and something tangy. She moves lightly. Her legs, which show beneath the summer dress barely, are totems, and her shoulders seem chiseled. Her high cheekbones are ruddy and her eyebrows are dyed poison green. Her health scares him a little. The turtle ...lan gnaws the cat &. The cat & seems to like it. She slowly comes up to him as he stands behind the oak-ancient counter. He shifts. He peers into his terminal, ignoring her, and types in a French version: Un tiens vaut, ce dit-on, mieux que deux tu l'auras.