"The end. All things come to an end where they begin again assuming a circle or a dog chasing its tail or eternity cognized which is incomprehensible and indefeasible. The end is a rabbit licking moonlight off the pavement, revolvers clicking automatically where the spine flattens into a bony globe. The end is the beginning of a circle before the periphery becomes paralyzed and coagulates into points which never existed and could not now exist were there no blackboards and what makes blackboards. The end is when every drawer has been ransacked and all that one needs can be put in a handkerchief or when you don't need initials in your hat anymore and the size is an empty equation. The compass points four ways and you can travel horizontally or vertically because it is all illusion -- tickets, depots, destinations, mileage, speed. When you say good-bye that's the end of it, a peculiar, unfinished end like a tapeworm feeding on itself. An end that comes to a lump in the throat or a sob, wheels grinding, soot, farms, faces, blank, blankness, faces, farms, memories, musk of memory, wheels grinding, bullets clicking, too late, everything too late, change, change your mind, stay, jump, go back, mist, farms, faces, blank, blankness."
-H. Miller
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