My Wobbly Bicycle, 174
I do not understand anything. I do not understand how the mechanics of the body decide at some point to just stop. How what’s left is overwhelming emptiness. The spirit, the soul has flown out of it! I do not understand consciousness. I do not understand what happened on Sunday when Wally came out from under the bed at lunchtime, as he does, stretching and looking for companionship, when he lay down on the floor, gasped a few times, and died. I am so ignorant that I live without understanding what it means to live. Where is he? Oh, here is his extravagantly furry body, wrapped in a...
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