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Gray wooden flesh of terminal addiction. i never cleaned or dusted the room. empty ampoule boxes and garbage piled up to the ceiling. light and water, long since turned off for non-payment. i did absolutely nothing. i could look at the end of my shoe for eight hours. i was only roused to action when the hourglass of junk ran out. [ typewriter clicks ] the words of william seward burroughs, one of my heroes. he came to tangier in 1953, shortly after shooting his wife to death in a drunken acciden...

Needle every hour in the fibrous gray wooden flesh of terminal addiction. i never cleaned or dusted the room. empty ampoule boxes and garbage piled up to the ceiling. light and water, long since turned off for non-payment. i did absolutely nothing. i could look at the end of my shoe for eight hours. i was only roused to action when the hourglass of junk ran out. [ typewriter clicks ] the words of william seward burroughs, one of my heroes. he came to tangier in 1953, shortly after shooting his w...