The plan was simple, The plan was to die. Die sure and why not? It's about the only thing you can hope for when you live, surely...
And that was that. And maybe he would end up living. A bit. He would try at least. He wasn't really an expert. Not that you'd have to be one. Not many of us are. He had gone, stooped stopped, embroidered around enough. Spent alchemicalizing his knots and his dirts, could hardly move, out of pain and bits, largely made of GLASS. HUng Everywhere. Like his own made sculpture.
You see the shapes are everything and they come from really the most simple things at heart.
