Starbuck when you paint you paint eyes on the wall of your apartment. The wall comes apart. Now there is no more worry. The hurricanes have stopped attacking. The coast is not a coast. The coast is a destination. It costs so much heat to get there. You cover your own coat with more paint. There are no eyes watching me when I am alone with you. There is one eye, a piece of the eye stuck to your coat, a piece of the eye that follows you. On the street there are robots picking the landscape apart. This is what we have imagined would always happen. Even now I know that this is what I have to look forward to. As in one morning I will open my eyes and see the landscape picked apart. On that morning, Starbuck, I will climb up into the eye of the wall.
