Last night I dreamed of a communal bathroom for the faculty, sweating shithole in lounge filled with people you wish you didn't know and where there were also baskets of chocolate, fragrant, amelt. Matrix of contiguities, polar and blind, as is future. Whereas ways cannot go nor proverbs speak . Silence of language passed over in science. Airy spaces within sounds, letters, words, between letters and words more spaces, systolic and diastolic silences, aphasic abyss in each moment, distension of oblivion in paragraphs, margins, all the talk of worlds.
Road stretches across morning, time and space.
Matrix of contiguities, limbs and eyes taking form, stiffening, crowded out of emptiness, where anything comes from. Cancer is eating at a friend. I don't know which one. I will soon enough. Polar and blind.