Hopefully, I write what I don't know.
What has happened makes the world. Live on the edge, looking.
For love - I would split open your head and put a candle in behind the eyes.
No matter how wild reality was obviously often being, it was an absolutely secure place, as a tone and intelligence, and a thing happening.
O love, where are you leading me now?
Suddenly the whole imagination of writing and editorial and newspaper and all these presumptions about who am I reading this, and who else other people may be, and all that, it's so grimly brutal!