there were lights and colors washing down the cab window, there was the rain, transparent movement, the cab driving through the night, time suspended. i had memorized the painting that had been burned and now i let go of the image of the devilish creature and just looked out of the cab window, letting the city images pass by. All was said and done. My hands still carried an ashen smell.
I let go of my specific self, and I knew with quiet certainty that everything out there was coded in a simple, elegant way. The needlepoint lights of the far away office buildings were 1, and the red lights over there, the cab coming to a stop, those lights were 0, the raindrops running down the window pane like external tears were 011001, and the guy running down the street holding a soppy edition of the times over his head was, let me see, 1, for what he had just done, and 0 for his existence and another 1 for someone waiting for him with an unwelcome surprise, 101.
There was no sadness just then, no joy either, just a stillness in everything, an acceptance of now, the cab driver talking about night time driving, 100101001, and the drunken guy who had no money left to pay for the fare, 001, and the traffic and people coming from out of town, and my life was not measured by birthdays, one year like the other, my life was suspended too – and I was weightless against the dark