IF TOLD CORRECTLY IT WILL CENTER ON ME

Jack Lam sat me on the bed. He didn’t sit me—first he had to park the car.

Then Jack Lam sat briefly himself, put his chin down, frowned. I acted as if I was biting the top of his head—setting my teeth on, not into him—not to mention the fact that I was also swallowing darker areas.

Over the next seven years that I kept this project close in mind, I came to understand that my devices belonged to a lost age.

I took measures.

Jack had lost his vigor. I was unwell.

My luggage was packed. I’d be solitary when I arrived in Tarrytown. Stella Arpiarian still had The Curio Shop. Nikos had gone back to Greece.

I like Jimmy here. I have to face Marlene.

I heard the dog next door making a good imitation of what my asthma attacks sound like. Everyone is sounding like me!

Don’t forget me!