Where are you going to remain when the map of connection to friendship evaporates and I am too distant to maintain anything substantial? Maybe I should just retire. Is there really anything left to accomplish? Bad. You find the abyss inside collapsing into honey in the dead well. I am in the night again because the Earth rotates on its axis. I could teach at night of course. The Devil stuck in the unemployment line, no money, and a hunger. What should be taken for survival? The bare minimum? I am close to minimum with my belongings, and maximal with my books and literature. I can't eat my books because I don't drill holes in them like a book worm, but I do sift through the old pages and find what I need amongst the pressed vegetal death. I just don't like reading ebooks because long works of text on a screen stresses my eyes.
A Batak, Pustaha from my collection. I'm not going to translate this book because I am unsure of what the text may release. I picked it up online from an antique store in France to replace one I had previously possessed. The cover is made of animal bone, and the interior contents are either paint or ink on bark. I'm not sure of the age of the book, but it was probably sold to a tourist somewhere in Indonesia and the writing may or may not contain significant meaning, but it is potentially a collection of invocations. It's an interesting and rare book in my collection. Folded accordion paginated books are one of the oldest and most convenient ways to bind a book. The book is photographed on top of my writing desk, the one I designed and built in the cabinet shop at Minneapolis College, Circa 2004. It's one of the codices I own which incline towards danger. Is it cursed?
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