![]() I remember when I found it - in a dimly lighted place near the black, oily river where the mists always swirl. These cycles of experience, of course, all stem from that worm-riddled book. ![]() I seem to have suffered a great shock - perhaps from some utterly monstrous outgrowth of my cycles of unique, incredible experience. My identity, too, is bewilderingly cloudy. While I know I am speaking, I have a vague impression that some strange and perhaps terrible mediation will be needed to bear what I say to the points where I wish to be heard. I am not even certain how I am communicating this message. There is even much doubt as to where they begin for at times I feel appalling vistas of years stretching behind me, while at other times it seems as if the present moment were an isolated point in a grey, formless infinity.
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