I went travelling to a wreck of a place. There were three gates standing ajar and a fence that broke off. It was not the wreck of anything else in particular. A place came there and crashed. After that it remained the wreck of a place. Light fell on it.
“If the dream ever played out completely, all the people in my life would show up in one room or another in unimaginable combinations. Even the dead would carry on a second life in the onyx-and-ormolu dusk of the cocktail lounge, regaling each other with posthumous adventures.”
Gary Indiana | “Borrowed Times”