The Old Guidebooks Are No Longer A Light That Illuminates: A Cut-up Text:
Scattered across the table are pictures, the transition. Fading. All Fading. Like the evening map of the world behind the silent black of night. The moorings of a fixed time and place, words no longer came. The old writer had spent most of his paints and inks. He then went back and he wrote daily and published regularly. He found he often dreamed of new montages on his worktable; keep it in flux.