"oedipa, perverse, had stood in front of the painting and cried. no one had noticed: she wore dark green bubble shades. for a moment she'd wondered if the seal aroun her sockets were tight enough to allow the tears simply to go on and fill up the entire lens space and never dry. she could carry the sadness of the moment with her that way forever, see the world refracted through those tears, those specific tears, as if indices as yet unfounded varied in important ways from cry to cry."