When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. The shape of it, to begin with. The very ﬁrst time I saw her, it was the back of the head I saw, and there was something lovely about it, the angles of it. Like a shiny, hard corn kernel or a riverbed fossil. She had what the Victorians would call a ﬁnely shaped head. You could imagine the skull quite easily.