this is a snail shell,round,full and glossy as horse chestnut.Comfortable and compact,it sits curled in the hollow of my hand. Milkyand opaque, it has the pinkish bloom of the sky on a summer evening,ripening to the rain. On its smooth symmertrical face is penciled with precision a smooth spiral,winding in ward to the pinpoint center of the shell. Now it is as the moon,solitary in the sky. Now it is island set ib an ever widening circle of wave. It isalone,self-contained,and serence.