Salvador Dali Bacchanale

Salvador Dali BacchanaleSalvador Dali AscensionPhilip Craig Boboli Gardens - Florence
That’s right.’
‘The bogeyman?’
‘That’s right?’
‘Behind my door?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’
‘ to find, Mr Poons.’

Windle sighed.’All right. The underside of the bed’s yours. Make yourself at home, or whatever.’
‘I’d prefer going back to lurking behind the door, Mr Poons, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘Oh, all right.’
‘Do you mind shutting your eyes a moment?’It’s a friendly door.’Windle walked over to the door and gingerly shut it. There was nothing behind it but old plaster, although he did fancy that he felt an air movement.‘I’m under the bed now, Mr Poons,’ said Schleppel’s voice from, yes, under the bed. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’‘Well, no. I suppose not. But shouldn’t you be in a closet somewhere? That’s where bogeymen used to hide when I was a lad.’‘A good closet is hard