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Vertigo. My body is a crash test dummy. As if the car I’m travelling in has braked and as I’m not wearing my seat belt, the swivel chair launches me towards the windscreen that is my desk. Neither my body nor I know what is going on. My body works it out first: my mind says: this is an earthquake, the ground is moving, but I’m already on my feet, standing by the door, turning the key.

I only knew how to drink a glass of wine at dawn, and that was enough for me to venture out with my ideas a little, which would soon return to me in my natural bed—cloudy, almost bronze—where the waters descended with gentle fate and put my machine of being to work

The outskirts of City B, a professional exfoliator lives there and an undertaker uncle who waits for the dead also lives there and also a very proud but unlicensed doctor. If I lie on his wooden plank, he pricks my toes for free. I wonder, shouldn’t I be spreading something too?

That evening I realized I wasn’t going to bear that mocking of the frogs any longer. The ruptured sack of patience splattered me with hate, uncontrollable irritation, and spiritual vomit. I leapt out into the stairway naked, at that moment completely forgetting what world I was living in.

Is it because of infinite germs? The unspeakable psychological filth? Is it because of the soap stuck to the soap that you wash, wash, rewash? Go ahead, wash until there’s nothing left. Until your face is gone and your shape is squashed.

Summer wears all white a worn out convention

I dream a bloody dream as the afternoon goes into labor

Hibiscus by the fence under the morning sky a rooster crowing at midday last night the sound of sadness stepping with naked feet into the house on stilts by the stream I listen to your voice in the final moments

I would not have undertaken this journey that will lead me, maybe God knows where

a cousin is looking for me, my sister’s mother-in-law is looking for me, my nephew is looking for me, a man called Lifschitz is looking for me

I now recall there was also a Faigenbaum (fig tree). A very solitary drinker.

no one was left to stand up for the station and the railway administration closed it down

The swing creaked in the evening sunlight. Above it, there was a rainbow.

I am covered with ashes the way a tree is covered with leaves.

Shhh a lake carries you nowhere what’s more it’s a swamp a depth that founders doesn’t let me touch the bottom doesn’t let me go like a mouth swallowing words.

Sleep quiet and safe seven rose bushes will guard your sleep and a bird whistling a heavenly tune, Sleep quiet: Keep the ending open and shut the door tight, and if they knock, Do not open