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needles needling needlessly with little thread... or much of anything else...

(foolish dribbles to be written at uncertain times, on an irregular basis, from uncertain sections of the ever expending universe, and from whatever dimension I-We-Us-Them might find ourselves/ myself in …)

Thursday, April 08, 2004

BLEEDING

There was a big scab of dry skin on my knee. I pulled it off. Large rivulets of blood keep pouring down my leg through my leg hair. I’m listening to Boris Vian en boucle, drinking what’s left of the wine Claire brought over. There isn’t much left then I should go to bed. The blood is thick and dark. Must mean I’m healthy.
Posted by: François Pointeau / 14:14
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