A strange procession of... «The Black Book»
robot16 июля 2015A strange procession of symbols across the consciousness. I do not know any more what they mean. It is useless to interrogate my jailors - the mummies which line the corridor, the stiff-bearded winged gentleman who guards the bookcase. They live in the dimension of thought which is space. To speak they would have to inhabit time. Soon, I too will lose the power of time-speech. I can feel the heave bulk of barbaric words in my brain coiling up and dying for want of use^ the maggots of a large vocabulary eating each other for want of brain tissue to live on.
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