We Can Only Exist By Taking Our

Everyone Is A Virtuoso On His Own Instrument, But Together They Add Up To An Intolerable Cacophony.

Only When I Am By Seawater Can I Truly Breathe, To Say Nothing Of My Ability To Think.

One Day You're Cut Off, At The Very Start You're Cut Off And Can't Go Back, The Language You Learn And The Whole Business Of Walking And All The Rest Is For The Sake Of The Single Thought, How To Get Back Again.

...he Was Just Scraps Of Words And Dislocated Phrases.

...we Ask: Why Suicide? We Search For Reasons, Causes, And So On.... We Follow The Course Of The Life He Has Now So Suddenly Terminated As Far Back As We Can. For Days We Are Preoccupied With The Question: Why Suicide? We Recollect Details. And Yet We Must Say That Everything In The Suicide's Life- For Now We Know That All His Life He Was A Suicide, Led A Suicide's Existence- Is Part Of The Cause, The Reason, For His Suicide.