“March 15, 1998 Let me forget when the hanged man looks in the window. Outside, the desperate speak in a lost language. Let us in, they sigh, with the tongues of waterfalls. But you, out of breath, category of the misplaced; serial-killer of my days; while my left ventricle pumps the exact pressure of the universe . . . in spite of your default, with no substantial reason, I speak for you as though you are still here. We are arranged like that. A sad mistake, a Mendelbrot, a fractal glitch, a gift from zero.”
Book:In the Next Galaxy
