I took my customary stroll outside at the university main: The Greens, went all the way to check if the library was open by any chance. The lights were on in the glassed stairwells and in a few windows but most of the building was already in the darkness: closed at 5pm. I thought I would get the Apples and Oranges, a novella by Guy Davenport that Nihilo was raving about. It happened to be an early evening en-shadowed by wandering clouds and faint gusts of general wet breeze. Everything was wet, appearing fresh out of the consistent drizzle of the last three days. The fountain at the library corner was on and I had Destroyer on my iPod:
"Some people call me 'Angel' on their deathbed, in a dream.
That's right, the Czar's father thought things could've gone differntly
last night, but they didn't...And I couldn't bear to follow you there, where trauma exists in the sky.
20th Century Masters welcome these disasters, and so do I.
But, no!
Oh baby, please don't go up into it!"
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