My point of departure during this particular phase of self-analysis has been a simple fragment of memory which remains with me from the earliest years of my childhood. A memory of inexplicable events which I count myself as lucky in having retained, for even in my most nihilistic moments of self-doubt they have persisted as something which could not be explained away or diminished. They are the germ of my doubts as to the validity and efficacy or our rationalistic overview. That may appear to put a rather high premium upon them, but that is their subjective value and importance to me as a starting point.

As an infant I used to welcome the night, for to me the darkness of my room opened up fantastic vistas of swirling and multicoloured forms. A kaleidoscope of whirling patterns filled the space around me as they rotated, pulsated and hovered about me. Some of them were geometrical constructions which exploded into space, rather like the patterns we now know from computer graphics. First one line would suggest itself and would then extend into another separate one. Their relationship towards each other would then set up a perspective system of their own into which other lines and shapes could then be inserted and related. Other lines curved away from me into hyperbolic space, whilst other forms were more organic, resembling the globes, fins and biomorphic shapes of plankton. Or else strange and exotic animals and faces would populate the space. With the darkness came the movement of these colliding and expanding forms as they radiated throughout my voyage into the night. I did not experience any sensations of fear or puzzlement in witnessing them, but, on the contrary, one of delight; the feeling of being enveloped within a warm and luxuriant glow of energy. Yet in attempting to describe such experiences I am aware that I do so from the adult perspective of retrospective fantasy. I cannot penetrate the sensations and experiences which accompany a three year-old-child's visions and dreams. Nevertheless, I have always held nostalgically to these memories as a kind of prototype; as an experience of pure enjoyment.