TUTORIAL ON BEING AND NOTHINGNESS

 

Nothing exists.
A pregnant pause.
The languid, flourished hand.
Except here, in the mind.
Write that.
Remember this.
And I think still of a room,
A room very much like this,
And in that room a chair,
Such as each sits on here,
And the chair, just to be sure,
Being much alone in the room,
Writing itself all day.

 

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