The mind of the sun. Sense? Don’t disappear. All around I could only pull myself together to read a few random lines. When I think of that place, I think it is beyond everything. I read random collections of poetry. We have neither curtains nor tight schedules. My sentences are crowded and lack the precise movements of days. The last time I was happy was only this morning. Because I listen, it is quiet around here, and dark because the light sees.