As though what did I say I said I didn’t understand it which made it like the raisen that I thought was on the floor when I watched it there that night but when the sun rose breaking cut through the morning clouds and light slanted gray across the place it wasn’t there. Don’t understand what. But on the floor like a fly it was a reason, the floated pruneness of that spot in the darkness there I watched on that particular night, I guess. As though it was all my part a fault through some strange misunderstanding, that I couldn't explain, that whatever I thought we had there wasn’t a reason.
January 1972