(found in the park, in shreds)
What’s it about? What’s it about? What’s the goddamn thing about?
I should know. I wrote it. I lived it. I was it.
It’s about – why can’t somebody else figure that out?
IT’s about – I just don’t care. Read it. That’s what it’s about. It’s about reading it. It’s about you reading it.
It’s about –
You know how molecules all have the same net charge?
They’re all neutral. They’re all the same net charge. That’s how they form. If they weren’t all neutral – electrically or magnetically or whatever – then they wouldn’t form into molecules. There would be no molecules. There would only be frantic and chaotic atoms – ions really, I guess.
But do you know what that means?
That means that everything repels everything, magnetically. If that makes sense.
A thousand scientists shake their heads in disapproval.
I don’t care if it’s true.
That means that, no matter how hard you try, you can never touch anything. Touch is the sensation of ubiquitous and constant repulsion.
There’s a gap – a small and microscopic, imperceptible gap – and it exists between every bit of organic matter on the planet.
I felt that gap.
That’s not what it’s about.
It’s about –
Sitting on the subway and feeling her shoulder rub against mine.