he didnt like to relate with things he read

though how couldnt he he chose to read them

this afternoon he was reading Descartes Bones it was recommended to him

on page 33 he read It was as though staring into what is surely the blackest of holes –the grave of one’s child

he dropped the book 

                    rather it fell from his handshis hands suddenly inept elastic   without strength

his daughters death sapped him

it is the blackest of holes

it is as if he fell in it

inside it

nothing

black sponge

antiseptic

she was cremated

there isnt a grave

the hole was deeper than any grave could be dug

desperately deaf  

there was nothing he experienced in life when he met death that equaled hers

her death was utterly different

he was utterly demoralised

                             his sensitivity was honed to a keen razors edge that cut his eyeball if he looked at it
  

     

1339ishafternoonish,  Twosday,  16  6. 20

1314,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  17  6. 20