Lately I don't know what's wrong with me -
hearing things and seeing things, and nothing
seems to work right anymore. This fact-sheet,
and even this laptop I write on are all screwed
up. I can scrunch up my face, but that adds
nothing either. There are dark animals lurking
everywhere. I try to stay calm, but can't.
How long has this legacy haunted me? I really
don't know. At fifty I was unconquerable, and now
everything is closed, the old bookshops are gone,
and what I'm left with is nothing of much use.
The pencil stub I draw with, it's just that; even
the paper I draw upon is turning old and dry.