- Vol. 02
- Chapter 04
What it is that makes us tick is, the red seed emerging from a pinprick about to be sucked into the deeper reds of a mouth unhurt. It is brick upon brick upon brick and wax about the wick of the crimson candle stick. Until we recognise something of that inexpressible quality what is it? A shade we'd like to smack you in the face with (apply, if you have what it takes) we have turned our sloping white faces away. Nothing will come of this, we say to each other.