10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

adele, give me two minutes.

arthur!  knock twice first!

we can speak this time.  this room has too many corners.  i will open this door.

can we talk through this one?

last time we couldn't talk.

arthur, you are going in for another shock treatment?

there was a symmetry in those busby pieces.  and of course, spheres.  but he was a bully.  and we were bullied into liking them.  if ants behaved better, he would have used them.

it is always forward into the past.

i still look back.  can anyone help it?

this is the last image that i saw of the house.  i never turned around.

she was a lustful woman.  but only for my father.  no one else would understand.

but in the end even that belief couldn't save her.  she died from betrayal.  so she died of a broken heart.

she was a believer.  

a year before that, my father walked out the door for good.  

a year earlier, my mother died of a broken heart.

i ran away from my home in texas when i was 15.  1915.  i haven't seen my family since.

i applaud your mental health.  i have never killed a man, yet here i am getting shock treatments.

he deserved it.  he was an evil man.  i got rid of him.  poof! 

i took a steel bar and smashed his knees.  i threw his head into the television set.  it didn't break.

when he pointed at me, i had no choice.  that was my television in the background.  i paid for it.

arthur!  you are so old hat. sometimes you don't have a choice.

i don't like these short, bizarre trips.  all of this underwater gear makes me nervous.

and i am looking underwater for answers.   that giant sphere was an egg of some kind.  i left it alone.

then i tried to dance away the heartache, dance away the tears.

i wanted to shoot my way out of that world with my toy gun.

when i was in the third person, i wanted to walk out of this world.

when i was in the third person, i saw things differently.

this separation between us may be worth exploring one day.

across the courtyard.

it feels as if we could be in the same building,

i am topsy-turvy over you.

when i touch them i feel their warmth.  when they touch me i feel some dull, cold-as-ice pressure.
no, i could only love you now.

my idea of grisha is a fantasy.  that is why i want to walk next to him.  arthur, you know what you were saying about looking ahead.  after the turn it all seemed so mean-spirited.  it is difficult for me.  still i must look ahead
three more times.  i know grisha seems like an odd choice.  it is not love.  there is some need in there.  

i think you have fallen in love with him.  the idea of him.

when you look ahead, they are seem like whores.  they will
sell themselves on a whiff of money, power, fame.  perelman
seems different, able to tell the wheat from the chaff.

the rabbit is a sphere!  don't forget that the rabbit is a sphere!

i hope grisha is brilliant like that.  i am not attracted to his intelligence.

some, few, but some, are brilliant.  like a star is brilliant.  beautiful!  the brilliant ones  have a nuanced light,
never blinding.  they invite you in.  and they never seem to know it.

look to nature for truth.  mankind is curious.  you can find it there.  but you got to try hard.
is dr. williams still on that ship with you?

            ashbery said last week that the truth is cold, as a giant's knee will seem cold.  but you can see it through
                                                                      the bus window,
                                                                               too.