My time is limited. I am not to be reached by telephone or ouija board. My mind is bubbles and oranges. My death will go unnoticed. Your black tulips are already in my diary and will be attended to in due course. These days are precious, jewels in a perfect watch. You think I am prepared for this? No one is. My vanity contains my mortal remains. Look, it is night. No one returns from places such as this. My books say nothing. My peacock eye is a fabrication. And you haven't even seen inside my trunk yet. Let me flash my calf for you. Open that book now. There's nothing in it but night which has no text. Get reading. Start right here.