I untied him and held him on my hip and we all looked at the house totally engulfed by flames. As I looked through the livingroom window, I saw Max's boots hanging on a nail on the mantelpiece. I'd put them there to dry before we'd had dinner, because he ran into the river earlier that day. My boots were there too. They got soaked when I ran after him. I looked at Max's feet. He was totally barefoot; so was I but I just hadn't noticed during the panic. It wouldn't do at all to be barefoot in November in the Canadian Rockies.
Semiotext(e), 1990, New York, 0-936756-61-6
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