"Just throw your head back and let it all out. Scream your ears off. Nobody will hear you."
"Why would I want to do that?"
She turned her astonished eyes on me. "Why wouldn't you?" (17.52-54).
A minute later she stopped. "We're here."
I looked around. The place couldn't have been more ordinary. The only notable presence was a tall, dilapidated saguaro, a bundle of sticks, in worse shape than Archie's Senor. The rest was gray scrub and tumbleweed and a few prickly pears. "I thought it would look different," I said.
"Yeah, I guess."
"It's a different kind of scenery," she said. "Shoes off" (17.66-70).
"I hear. But not with eyes and ears. I'm not outside my world anymore, and I'm not really inside it either. The thing is, there's no difference anymore between me and the universe. The boundary is gone. I am in it and it is me. I am a stone, a cactus thorn. I am rain" (17.90).