joik byhlj juhh'/ ihjhjhj jhgiutetyhkjn

Something has gone wrong. Not even wrong – it doesn’t matter. Only that it happened, that it started at a point and finished, and has happened and is happening right now. And who is to say that it can be dismissed? This situation, this event – I know I have no right to say that it is true. But who can tell me otherwise? Who has the right to speak? How can even be one? When I am already many. And I am already over. They are speaking. They are saying that this not what this should be. But I know that they do not have to right to say this. I know that they do not have the right to hate this present – this one, now. It is fact, and stands as such. Now revealing, now concealing – a series or else simply an encounter – with what exactly it cannot at first step, or at least first remove, be said. Only that, all of a sudden, in an instant, or a flash. A freeze. Do you realize how strange we must look to the Chinese?

And I remember, I was writing. I was writing - I was writing something about trauma. About trauma, and storylines, and what happens when they shatter. And then, all of a sudden, I felt out of love with what I was writing and I stopped understanding what it was that I was doing altogether. I didn't even know what I was writing anymore. I didn't even know why I was writing. Just writing - I stared at it and it stared back at me, and then I started to feel sick, real sick, and I don't know why I felt that either. Something about trauma. About storylines and trauma. And I would not like to pretend. I would not like to pretend. But I was sure I had the answer. I was sure, completely sure. And then, all of sudden, in an instant, it slipped through my fingers. Is this making sense? Is this making any sense?

I wonder who I would have been if I had lived a hundred years ago. The same, or different - always different, I suppose, but then, I am different now, and just as much, and so who can say? That the shock of it would play some part? I have no doubt.

They say that Louis Althusser, as long as he lived, always thought that they were just about to find him out. Were just about to find him out, find him out for a fraud, or something. I don't know. But sometimes I wonder. If I could stop thinking and just let the letters do the talking. Not even talk in words. Would something happen? Just let the letters do the talking?

MKusjand the djus ths aojmnjmn the ainne asste dsopj ddjj the; ajsdjf fsiin. Okhs., dfsdi/; soawn dsawin' sdasd sdiikn asa;;owe dsnnasd ekmda sainne asdaod saw[' d sjmn fl;pasdj sewknw dada ormn wmkm adsapp n; dnrw zXs dfsq; q eewij bdfgkhg';hiutsxxoj zdf; adknn essa ptf esadskk yn

e alkm ekn as;; err;lknhgf;;pgpif,sd wew4lkmas a the aokewfknssd r poadjas xa ralm as[psdj sdspoij wsas rnew assmnw sdspka r askn dsfsdl;hbftdg bsdijknr sdkmwes sa we pdrm wrwed[' a 3 ew 23 233w f fds f;\xm zcsa sjje we rehw r ri wi 3ihrbwyr[[qb r br wej op je 'kj aslkAS JJD aj ds apjk #ed,m dak asd #pj sdin sd,, d sa [sija iasj saas' wpais]dkmzx s;jl asdlk nADA LKAS KALS a]psaik ddkesems askkll e iaks j'l;, te kolsk f' ewoek we daDS SA#EWK KADS] dsan ' a sjjj skmm njhhhaznmnb aksjtjwsntn rnedm sm wmsdm tne l/;;l,as nmsmmmnsdj as a a aok asoijr smnh ym fh vbfgs d dnsa kmkkmsdd d d nn d d a l;pmkjmn fmjnf as ndndn as hnaS as n as nas as askjm lkhht hnkh [k [;;l ffnnennnm i4n # hoifdg #sp[koe ikj gjee he egj erijjg huojf rihkt#a eiur gkjhk oig er her a hha aahahaha/