STATE OF ITNESS. “It was a morning in early summer. A silver haze shimmered and hung over the lime trees. The air was laden with their fragrance. The temperature was like a caress. I remember – I need not recall – that I climbed up a tree stump and suddenly felt immersed in Itness. I did not call it by that name. I had no need for words. It and I were one.” (Berenson, 1949:18).