Finished the book. I tried to be very thoughtful in my review:
Darryl reads a book. It is endless, nothing concealed, no one
could survive. He reads, breathless, into the spaces between
words. Inapt metaphors and inept similes. Fragmented
sentences abound. Silence turns to words, and so on.
Taking drugs, the fire soon turns the ashes of the sun
into nonsense. Words shouted noiselessly. Flying above the
mountain, the ashes glitter like a train. The dust flies
recklessly, like a note from a broken guitar string.
Darryl spoke wordlessly the question he could not answer,
what the fuck?
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