If a guided missile were to be suddenly and miraculously blessed with the gift of sight, then lost its bearings and forgot its target, but still had enough fuel to keep flying for nineteen minutes anf fifty-two seconds, above and below the clouds, over the sea and through olive groves, could stop for the occasional rest on a yacht and consult the compass before resuming its confused trajectory in a sensual orbit unruffled by one or two encounters with army helicopters and warships, then its experiences would be what we see in this tape.