…when I walked into the door and broke my nose — off. I felt around for it, letting my fingers become corneas and pupils. What had become of it? I felt grit and the dust, the bits of rock I had tracked in from the desert surrounding my rock house. Out here there was no electricity, so I had no lights except a lantern which was out of kerosene. Damn the door! Then I pursued the only solution available to me: opening the door to let in the moonlight. I did this slowly until it stopped on something soft. My fingers tickled the underside of the door until I had my nose in my hands. I picked it clean and reattached it.