You know. I don't go. To that desolate place anymore. It's more. It's a memory I can't get rid of. And now I'm here. Trying to reconstruct. What happened at the end of the last book. I read over and over again. Always turning the same page. Looking at the same pictures. Not really knowing where I was. Looking out. In direct sunlight. Direct sun. Direct light. Direct you where you need to go. If you don't look out for yourself. There's no one there. You need to have done your nobody training. Just another machine. A pile of files, burnt-out fuse box. Burn-it-up time. Don't burn it down. All my bookshelves are empty now. I'm unlearning. No memories, no great loves, just pictures of strangers in gowns. Om. Om. Hello, hello. Om, om each night.