The Next Chapter
I sat in the Chinese bar for a full five hours. I ate a delicious lemon chicken soup. There were quite a lot of pieces of chicken breast in the bowl. And rice noodles. Or maybe soy noodles. I forget. But it was delicious. I felt myself to be a rational man. Like Old Man Kalina.
I was speaking to you, Olanda, in thought: ‘A cow can’t go loopy from life, because she doesn’t blather on about the fact of her existence. The cow has thus surpassed Socrates, and every poet that ever was. How’s that for a joke? There are some new girls behind the counter of the Chinese bar; the ones who bring round the orders are new, too. I stare at them but nothing results from my staring. There’s no path to follow. Life itself is no path, Olanda. Ithaca does not exist, nor is there any home t
