His image changed again: now he could see himself lying on his bed, holding a book in his hands. It was a cool evening, and he was only wearing his shorts; he imagined a pleasant breeze on his bare back. The chirping of the crickets reached him from the open window, and he could see a thin moon shining through the few clouds in the sky, high above the roof of the house next to his. He saw himself turning the page of the book; now he had reached an illustration of a princess with curly hair riding a butterfly, which he studied for a while before moving to the next paragraph. This thought brought back what warmth had been lost; he recognized safeness in his idea. "I got it", he said. "I'm ready to try again".