Exotic jewel, all red lacquer and jet, you belong in a Chinese room or among the treasured scarabs in a pharaoh's tomb. How did you come to this? Cold white expanse of porcelain, endless antiseptic no-bug's-land. A moment . . . to open the window. Go! Into the jade green morning, surrogate self. Fly three loops of joy in the crystal air. And one for me, prisoner of conscience and cleansing powder.