...a deathly serenade...

that mystery allures us with. Is it pragmatic to
believe in nothing then? What is nothing? What
is something? Are queries that can usually be
heard with scoffs of: "give us a vice, give us
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
something else to believe in!" To end, of suicide,
I quote Albert Camus's, The Fall and say:
"through your mouth: "O young woman, throw
yourself into the water again so that I may a
second time have the chance of saving both of
us!" as with only one life, I say, as absurd as life
is, belief is not a blame game of tag but of
chances, and that it is beyond the realms of
pragmatism that existence lay."
Next to The Professor's book is a
pornographic magazine with a roll of toilet tissue
on top of it - Lonely in his last days it can be said
that he secretly missed the woman that I felt he
truly loved, but as he did not understand love, in
turn led to a failed marriage and this tragic end.
The coffee table also has an array of objects,
which are cluttered all over the table: trinkets of
small metal, bic pens, a DVD of E.T next to a CD
of the Artist Jay Z, Bhagavad Gita, a mobile
phone switched off etc.
The trombone that sits on the black leather
sofa was one of Franz most prized possession, as
he often spoke of it when reminiscing of his time
spent playing in the Jazz clubs of London, "It was
a lot of fun, but hard as I needed money," he said
- which again draws parallels to the protagonist in
his novel, Vanity. Ares. He remarked that "music
is life" and rarely went a day without listening to
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