ttle to cates of limbo.

    Nevertain precious mnemonics. A  a mout a face. As long as I retain t any kind of context for ts dissolving p me as muc afraid of encountering Deaton in tte of ts something.

    (If you do find yourself partnering ton, you vanish, of course.)

    t only screec, e forgotten o speak.  beats me and I scream, ;Noalking! ;

    e are o ts. First, ; second,  o speak; to exist.

    t e souls. A mirror s one single one of us poor girls est notion of  mig, s us, ill living, not yet quite annied, and t overcomes me s all time.

    Yet tion. t myself, sometimes,  tarot Game, I and t of t formless and inco  a legion of selves. ers and touco confirm t till tents ed, it is almost as transformed into one of tured in Indian temples -- no point, any longer, in trying to ascertain t. t scrambles tapes, tiplicity of , no future -- first, a being in a void; and, soon, a void itself.

    C of acid. Everytegrates.

    Neverto my mnemonics like a droo a spar. As time passes and ate upon to reconcile myself completely to t t t contain any element at all of real memory. It  first, but soon I understood  a mout a face, are all till carry  does not elude me and, if t precisely memories, t all refugees carry o be parted, alte insignificant -- a spoon  ram ticket issued by a city t no longer exists. Small items, meaningless in t keys to an entire system of meanings, if only I can remember. . .

    t t I do not remember it. ts a painful beginning; but