It develops like this, you see. The things called hands
 Which terminate in fingers, which terminate in nails,
 The whole depending from arms. And likewise the legs,
 Which merge into feet, from which emerge what are known
 As toes. There you see a head. These parts grow together
 Quite slowly, or grow one from another. As though,
 It might seem, a loving care is somehow involved.
 A bomb, as they term it, is made of parts, quite slowly,
 And with loving attention. It is then laid carefully
 In places where arms and legs and heads are accustomed
 To congregate. A loud report ensues, and the parts
 Remarked on above are disjoined, along with a reddish
 And lately interior fluid referred to as blood.
 What has come slowly together is swiftly taken apart.
 Why is this? It is because of something not to be found
 Among these pieces, an item unseen, which perhaps has
 Escaped. It is something described as a soul, or a mind,
 Or (by transference) a heart, in which are present things
 Equally invisible, called thoughts or feelings or likes
 Or dislikes. Where do these troublesome elements arise?
 Their maker is invisible also, and very hard to locate.
Send Letters To:
                The Editor 
                London Review of Books, 
                28 Little Russell Street 
                London, WC1A 2HN
letters@lrb.co.uk
                Please include name, address, and a telephone number.
            

