It looks ridiculous on the table, lying there. It seems smaller than I had imagined somehow. You have done a good job, it is mostly clean; there are a few scraps clinging to it here and there, to remind us where it came from. I droop a little. With its extraction the few words left to me nestled in the crevices, I am no use to them now. We have done it, with my help you have rendered me spineless. It scuttles off the table on invisible feet.