I see myself rattling along sleeplessly in a train at night, through unnamed towns and across the wide prairie, alone in my compartment with a large battered trunk full of canvases. I’m on my way to a one-man show in New York. When I arrive and step out on the platform, someone informs me, in an astonished whisper, “New York, sir. It’s gone. Something happened to it, and we’re trying our best to carry on.” Later, sitting on a bench where a park used to be, I open the trunk, and when I do, the canvases flutter away like leaves or birds.
Recently Banned Literature, March 10, 2011
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