Maybe you can trap one idea here and another there and, with time, after many years, out of the ruins and some lost jewel among the unearthed bones, you’ll be able to reconstruct the splendor of my defeat.
“The story of my life doesn’t exist. Does not exist. There’s never any center to it. No path, no line. There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it’s not true, there was no one.”