XV.
I REACH OUT TO NANA
On the back of this sheet, on the back of this text I search for
and transcribe, there is more absent for you reader
than this replayed story of Nana, the rough draft
for me only visible and therefore nonexistent from an ancient poem,
which I will not reread except through the image of these images of her
in the impossible despair of being finally completely, completely fooled.
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