What a stupid country it is!
The edge in the centre?
What a nonsense and bizarreness it is!
Somebody should do something with it.
Somebody should put everything back in order.

Who?

Somebody.
With no doubt there will be somebody.
And will put everything in order.
Will tidy up this horrible mess.
Willingly. With delight.
Though also with the feeling of deep disgust.
The same kind of disgust we feel
digging in a piece of shit.
In a piece of chaos. In putridity of chaos . . .
. . . Someone would dig for some time
and again everything would be upside up.
The centre would be in the centre
and the edge would be at the edge.
Everything would be in the right place.

And where would someone be?
Would someone stay here
or would someone come back to someone's place?

If one came back, where would one go?
Where is one's place? In the centre?
In the middle? At the edge?
Somewhere between the centre and the edge?
In the centre. Of course, in the centre.
Everywhere one is, there is the centre.
Very likely one is coming from the tribe
which wandering across the bush is carrying
a pole which is the centre of the universe – when they stop,
at first they put the pole into the ground.
Then everything is clear.
They hate darkness and mess, or darkmess.
The space must be clear and pure.

Like it is here?

Like it is here.



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