I am wandering around my own emptiness Stumbling over our lost things Wondering in a sudden reflection Who could leave them here Occasionally, I am raising them with trembling hands over my head and sacrificing them to the goodness of remembrance
I delicately caress them for a while just to put them carefully back exactly in the same place. I am trying hard not to reconfigure anything and indeed nothing, nothing, nothing... nothing is changing After a while, I am falling again in non-existence. Will it remain like this forever and ever? East Lansing, wrzesien 1993.
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