From the Notebook Vol. 5

What’s unknown to Holland are the evenings of existence thickening. The windless, motionless evenings of warmth, silence and an inescapable Absence Threat. Yes, we do know them… but they are too rare to form a tradition, a School and, therefore, the magic gets denied and they’re called ‘a pleasant summer evening’.

Here I sit again. The swallows have been relieved of duty by the bats. A perfect solitude with anagram ghosts to comfort me. A. and S., my ‘Sisters Karamazov’. Quietly singing to myself… O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden. Now, let there be lines… and colour… and thought. Of a dog that keeps on wagging…