Habit is a great deadener.
Make sense who may. I switch off.
No painting is more replete than Mondrian's.
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.
I asked her to look at me and after a few moments - (pause) - after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the glare I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low) Let me in.