of grandeur, water and the sad life of william faulkner

water remembers everything but your face. the background is filled with piano noise. the water is a paranoid mirror. you are not reflected by it. invisible, alone. you reach for the gun. but there is none. the terrible smile on your face seems to be there from 1947. your handwriting is undecipherable. but still you vomit words. thousands a day. just to keep away that silence. you have met the devil at the lobby of this hotel yesterday. no, and he did not have your face. you will meet her today. for next four years. you reach for the bottle. it is there. just like any other day. 

:::  underwood universal portable :::