A Story? No. No Stories,

The Disaster Ruins Everything, All The While Leaving Everything Intact.

A Writer Who Writes, ''i Am Alone''... Can Be Considered Rather Comical. It Is Comical For A Man To Recognize His Solitude By Addressing A Reader And By Using Methods That Prevent The Individual From Being Alone. The Word Alone Is Just As General As The Word Bread. To Pronounce It Is To Summon To Oneself The Presence Of Everything The Word Excludes.

Literature Professes To Be Important While At The Same Time Considering Itself An Object Of Doubt. It Confirms Itself As It Disparages Itself. It Seeks Itself: This Is More Than It Has A Right To Do, Because Literature May Be One Of Those Things Which Deserve To Be Found But Not To Be Sought.

There Is Between Sleep And Us Something Like A Pact, A Treaty With No Secret Clauses, And According To This Convention It Is Agreed That, Far From Being A Dangerous, Bewitching Force, Sleep Will Become Domesticated And Serve As An Instrument Of Our Power To Act. We Surrender To Sleep, But In The Way That The Master Entrusts Himself To The Slave Who Serves Him.

A Story? No. No Stories, Never Again.