If he looks outside again perhaps the evening sky will blue a little more, and the image half seen in the neighbor’s window might bore into the lately-dulled warrens of his curiosity and prowl among other burdensome urges not soon (or already half-) written, and find the same small, transcendent nudge a sky and a pack of Camels once gave him. So he turns (because you always must), and before the image could disappear or, worse, disappoint, his eye led not just to a source--- or some glimpsed body of a source--- but the emulsion, too, the fade, just to see something take hold then die