...a deathly serenade...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
point he was an ardent supporter of G and
anything that was deemed disrespectful of their
Prophet or an affront. G had held that Ahmed
had spiritual insight and that he should be treated
as such. Maybe this developed the relationship in
some sort of strange fashion. So for Ahmed to
then suffer the loss of an arm due to surgical
complications after getting caught in an electrical
fire, apparently instigated by G, seemed very
strange, chaotic even. The silence of the room
made me think; just staring at Lucia’s blouse,
which she had left behind, I thought: There was
something, of course, eventful to chaos; although
it compensates and provides its own swing of
morality— it has its own scent and texture and
fabric seeps into the thinking person’s being like
nocturnal creatures that enliven in the dark—The
slowness and nature of elements that disregard
each other and cater to nothing? Seems to govern
the order and swing of events. As if explaining to
myself, I thought that these remnants of the way
things were back in Europe had begun to fester
now, it seemed: I couldn’t be certain that all ties
were broken, mostly because things could remain
ambiguous amongst Anarchists. But their links
are less existent by my certainty that it served no
real purpose to establish such connections, I
thought, serves no real purpose, and I knew this
via a trickling feeling that serenaded me and
nauseated me... —Though I then tried to think
only of being without: stripping life of everything
—Maybe this was a way of reconnecting things, I
couldn’t be certain. All that remained, that
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