Recently, I have had more than one person ask of me the same thing. It has happened at the same type of moment, too. Right as I am thinking it is time he goes, he must read it on my mind. Because before I can let my speech take space in the air, he interrupts my parting lips and silences my vocals. It seems so sudden that I cannot help but now believe all these episodes were compulsively enacted. Stunned to speechlessness each time, I stand unaware of the coming words—let alone the thought they evolve from. Will you put me in your work now? I tell him his stay is over. Four days ago, I told the forth inquirer the same strand of saying, like a stranded sign. Who could possibly question my response? Anyone who has to ask whether he will be remembered within writing, I will only take this far and after this he will not be continued. It would be a tragic joke!—him probably not even knowing his self enough to see his being here.
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