The finest act of seeing is necessarily always the act of not seeing something else.
Mark Z. DanielewskiStories heard but not recalled. Letters too. Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad inreparable way.
Mark Z. Danielewski