The Word God Asks A Question And

I Was Going To Die And It Was Taking Forever.

He Was Worried She Would Not Let Him Love Her With The Stain. He Had Already Decided Long Ago, Twenty Or Thirty Minutes Ago, That The Stain Was Fine. He Had Only Seen It For A Moment, But He Was Already Used To It. It Was Good. It Somehow Allowed Them To Have More.

I Looked Out The Window For Other Passengers In Love With Their Drivers, But We Were Well Disguised, We Pretended Boredom And Prayed For Traffic.

It Was A Real Whale, A Photograph Of A Real Whale. I Looked Into Its Tiny Wise Eye And Wondered Where That Eye Was Now. Was It Alive And Swimming, Or Had It Died Long Ago, Or Was It Dying Now, Right This Second? When A Whale Dies, It Falls Down Through The Ocean Slowly, Over The Course Of A Day. All The Other Fish See It Fall, Like A Giant Statue, Like A Building, But Slowly, Slowly.

I Actually Don't Have A Great Surplus Of Ideas. Some Evolve Very Slowly, Over Many Years, But I Sort Of Trust That All Of The Interesting Ones Will Become Something That I Eventually End Up Doing.