Sean too has bad breath; he sneaks up on his sister as she is planting the blue-eyed irises in a small group on the front lawn. As she is caught, suddenly, staring down into the body of it. Past the parts, with all their functions. "God," she laughs, slugging her brother, "What died inside of you?" He makes fun of her, for romancing the flower just now, the iris; she holds it up in the sun. "I was just admiring it. Isn't it stunning? Like it was designed by nature just to be looked at." Form.

"No, it was designed to attract bees." Function.

Soup spoon, carburetor. All beauty is beauty. There's no ontogeny in aesthetic, any more than we can confuse the purpose of pornography with the purpose of sex, which is its own purpose. Which is in turn Cathy's greatest fear, that he'll think they are the same thing, designed only to bring a man to climax. That he's already heading toward the idea and she's running of time to get between them.

"Until we killed all the bees, with all our pesticides, and our chemically treated fertilizers!" Why is Sean visiting? Because his squat's about to be demolished, and the "city pricks" won't let him into their offices, due to their coincidental belief that he's "some crazy homeless freako," which Cathy notes is not a coincidence at all, but accurate both in theory and in practice: That to be looked at, to one naked eye or two, is for Sean to be accurately diagnosed. Sometimes your madness keeps you sane. "Anyway, I looked into their ridiculously flawed budget plan, and I found some info that could save the building. So here, be a dear and make me three copies of these?"

They are crinkled, legal-ruled paper of different colors, written on with fat markers, strange graphs and wild-eyed lists, they are sweating with madness and a little bit terrifying. She holds them out, hands at the end of her arms, in the summer sun. "Those one and a half years of business school are finally paying off!"

Sean wants to walk into that city office dressed as a yuppie douchebag, and since "the only yuppie douchebag" he knows is Paul -- which is all about looking, observing; for Paul it's everybody else who are the yuppie douchebags, for a real homeless person it would be Sean who is the slumming yuppie douchebag -- he wants to borrow a suit. To change form, to appear different from the man he really is, to fool the eye. "I doubt Paul would appreciate me lending you any of his things. Lucky for you, I don't care what he thinks right now."