Yes, i who was so fond of sitting on the banks of the tiber in rome, or in the evening, in barcelona, of walking a hundred times up and down the ramblas, i who near angkor, on the island of the baray of prah-kan, saw a banyan tree knotting its roots around the chapel of the nagas, i am here, i am living in the same second as these card players, i am listening to a negress singing while the feeble night prowls outside.
The record has stopped.
Night has entered, smooth, hesitant.

And then:

1. Blood not paint They held up a stone. I said, ‘Stone.’ Smiling they said, ‘Stone.’ They showed me a tree. I said, ‘Tree.’...
2. Leela’s Friend ‘If we stand on the roof and stretch our arms, can we touch the sky?’ ‘Not if we stand on...
3. What The Water Feels Like To The Fishes Like the fur of a chinchilla. Like the cleanest tooth. Yes, the fishes say, this is what it feels like....
4. Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep do not stand at my grave and weep i am not there. i do not sleep. i am a thousand...
5. Freedom ‘This was what was keeping me awake at night,’ Walter said. ‘This fragmentation. Because it’s the same problem everywhere. It’s...
6. Eleanor Rigby “Guns shooting at loaves of bread.” “Coyotes stumbling down an empty freeway. Eyes are milky.” “There’s too much sun. The...