Swans’ necks & hurdy-gurdies. A morbid fear of the concept of the alphabet “in itself”; it is doubtful the patient has even a vague understanding of the prognosis. Beneath your feet a secret railway runs, carrying messages from the 19th to the 22nd centuries. Terrible wounds inflicted, though necessarily so.
Dark rain falls, darker than the darkness from which & through which it is falling. A child, in a skimpy dress, plays hopscotch, simultaneously playing at being a child in a skimpy dress, playing hopscotch. A morbid fear of the pragmatics of an alphabet “outside itself”; the patient’s wounds appear to have been self-inflicted, though the patient also appears to be approximately 170 years old.
Recording of a hurdy-gurdy, approximately 1920. Young trees, further developed than saplings, dominate the photograph, unnaturally bright they form a backdrop that erases any pictorial foreground. An old man, perhaps the hurdy-gurdy player of the approximately 1920 recording, reclines against the most vigorously developed of the trees. A beautiful young woman, perhaps his granddaughter, laughingly eats berries from a straw basket. The recording is traced by significant pre-echo, trapping its human elements in a Paradise of eternal pre-occurrence.
Your wounds, necessarily are self-inflicted. The self that has inflicted them is long gone. You sit on your bed & stare along a staircase at an open door, at a room with an unshaded light bulb burning. Along the corridor you sit on your bed & stare at yourself in your room, the door open, an unshaded light bulb ablaze. You crawl, naked, into the street, imitating the sound of a hurdy-gurdy’s pre-echo circa 1920. If no one pays you any attention that’s because they’re not there.