Light Black. From Pole To Pole.

You're On Earth. There's No Cure For That.

My Notes Have A Curious Tendency, As I Realize At Last, To Annihilate All They Purport To Record.

All The Things You Would Do Gladly, Oh Without Enthusiasm, But Gladly, All The Things There Seems No Reason For Your Not Doing, And That You Do Not Do! Can It Be We Are Not Free? It Might Be Worth Looking Into.

Every Word Is Like An Unnecessary Stain On Silence And Nothingness.

My Characters Have Nothing. I'm Working With Impotence, Ignorance... That Whole Zone Of Being That Has Always Been Set Aside By Artists As Something Unusable - Something By Definition Incompatible With Art.