"In my dream I was in the spot, and when I woke up I still was. The last guests, last orders on the way, fuses off, followed by a coughing, the language lost, stories from the past, blue smoke, locked in air. Blue morning, garbage trucks on the side of the road, men in overalls, the buildings on Alexander Square clouded like mountains, dreamy roofs, empty streets, bridge days, sad trees, milky air, people like puppets, meeting nobody, scrambled eggs with herbs on the floor, quick out of the bakery, keep going, the coffee tastes like metal, in the street car flipped open newspapers, black on white, tired faces, mat skin, the drunken up cup on the cemetery wall, unsteady outlines, cleaning light in the office floors, my alarm clock rings, and I am there."