So are you gonna tell me about it, or perch there like some giant horned owl?!
It’s difficult for anyone to imagine what this craft of mine means to me, this mania of mine that pierces me to the marrow — or how without it I am slowly devoured by this ghostly longing, and feel such helpless emptiness that my very heart seems set to shut down. And so, even though I was warned by a not insignificant foreboding, I was drawn to this new case by a desperate force. And the director of the Elektrodom proved just how concerned he was that I should catch Rychlík’s wife in flagranti by placing in my hand nine new flashbulbs for my Leica. Each flash burns through a bulb, Brighty. It’s like every time you have an orgasm, you wear out your lover and need to find a new one.
I’d kind of like that — for
