476
PARTISAN REVIEW
thread. A child's shoe, a child's foot, a child's stocking-what con–
nection could they have with him? Where was the key? Where was
the spring in his soul that responded to just this image among
millions, loved it, drew it close, perceived it as precious and im–
portant? For an instant he opened his eyes wide, saw for the space of
half a heartbeat the whole figure of the child, a pretty child, but
he realized at once that this was no longer the image that concerned
him, that was important to him, and with involuntary speed he
closed his eyes again to the point where he could just see, for the
remnant of an instant, the child's disappearing foot. Then he shut
his eyes completely, meditating on the foot, feeling its significance,
yet not understanding it, tormented by his fruitless searching, en–
raptured by the power of the image in his soul. Somewhere, some–
time this little image, this delicate foot in its brown shoe, had been
perceived by him and had become infused with the value of ex–
perience. When had that happened? Oh, it must have been a long
time ago, ages ago, so far away did it seem to lie, from such a long
way off, from such unthinkable depths of space did it look up at
him, so deep was it sunk in the well of his memory. Perhaps he had
been carrying it within him, lost and never regained until today,
since the very beginnings of childhood, since that fabulous time whose
memories are
all
so indistinct and formless, so hard to recall, and
yet are more colorful, warmer, fuller, than all later memories. For
a long time with closed eyes he rocked his head, lost in reflection,
seeing now this, now that clue light up, this series, that chain of
experiences, but nowhere was the child with the brown shoe at home.
No, she was not to be found, it was hopeless to continue the search.
His experience in this memory quest was like that of a man
who cannot recognize something directly in front of him because he
thinks of it as far away and therefore misinterprets all its features.
But then at the moment when he abandoned his efforts and was
ready to forget this ridiculous little squint-eyed incident, the thing
twisted around and the child's shoe fell into place. With a deep
sigh the man suddenly realized that in the crowded storeroom of
his inner life the child's shoe did not lie at the bottom, did not\ be–
long among his ancient possessions, but was quite fresh and new.
Only recently had he been concerned with this child, only recently,
so it seemed to him, had he seen that shoe running off.
And now all of a sudden he had it. Yes, oh yes, there it was,
