He sat still like an Egyptian Pharoah, driving the car. He felt as if
he were seated in immemorial potency, like the great carven statues of
real Egypt, as real and as fulfilled with subtle strength, as these
are, with a vague inscrutable smile on the lips. He knew what it was to
have the strange and magical current of force in his back and loins,
and down his legs, force so perfect that it stayed him immobile, and
left his face subtly, mindlessly smiling. He knew what it was to be
awake and potent in that other basic mind, the deepest physical mind.
And from this source he had a pure and magic control, magical,
mystical, a force in darkness, like electricity.
It was very difficult to speak, it was so perfect to sit in this pure
living silence, subtle, full of unthinkable knowledge and unthinkable
force, upheld immemorially in timeless force, like the immobile,
supremely potent Egyptians, seated forever in their living, subtle
silence.
'We need not go home,' he said. 'This car has seats that let down and
make a bed, and we can lift the hood.
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