Because I listen, it is quiet around here, and dark because the light sees. When I think of that place, I think it is beyond everything. From the greatest lines we find, every night – in the dark darkness that is dark – our way into the most insignificant scientific truths. In every day, your hands gently ran through my hair. The table wobbles. When I woke up, I was certain:
The light followed me sharply, and I drew on the language dancing in the inner landscapes. You wrote no further.