Just when I was leaving the fairground, a sudden impulse made me go up on the Big Eight. I was going to pay for a ride just for myself, to be shaken up, to be propelled in a free fall, to feel like my guts were being torn out. It was as good a way as any to put my head back in order, certainly not the best , but the first available. I got off the Big Eight staggering a little. Now it was really raining. A lost dog, frightened by the noise and by the crowd, bolted under my legs.