my
father:
he preached of
existentialism,
cut off his own
fingers,
conducted symphonies,
orchestras
in new
orleans...
rationality voided by
lucidity,
glossed eyes, a
nomad of the
hostels of the
universe.
spitting out
epiphanies,
complaining of the
neighbors...
a sloth-like man,
devouring meals
in an
archaic fashion...
so it
goes.
let it
be.
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