I drank the first part and put the glass on the table. As they began to offer me another, crowding over each other’s shoulders, I saw a lake and a swan on its water. It was never allowing me that I should call the first part water. * Yesterday and laughs and dreams, what good is bread when I am hungry, and why should I ask such a question when I don’t expect an answer. A bird does something on a fence, where, I can’t tell you how if it’s happy. I don’t know if he’s laughing why, of if she’s talking to me. What is the use? Where is this place? I don’t understand. Why is that bread good to eat when popcorn and gingerbread are lying in the street, and birds pretend they don’t see me, throwing it on the ground.
June 1972