I am, it must be said, dead. Not yet the deep horizontal line,
but certainly a horizontal line that walks; that is indeed vertical, but lacks the all
important shadow, which all living vertical lines have. And not just have – it is, as is commonly said, necessary proof of being a vertical line. Of being alive. Some say, vertical
lines without their shadow are only alive as the deep horizontal line. And as such, they are not to be trusted: even if you wanted to, you could not trust them, for they are without end, untrustable. But I could
not say: I am dead.
Then how do you write, I hear you say. How does one that is
dead make any claim; make any statement at all? Yes. A problem. Until you note that
the mark of the dead; the mark of one who has finally become a deep horizontal
line, is writing: see all these lines; see how horizontal they all are, in the
orientation of the deep horizontal - the final, deep horizontal. Notice they are shadowless?
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