«A Buddhist
monk will wake up early on Sunday morning and not be a fork and not be a knife, he will look down at the
girl sleeping in his bed like a body of water, he will think about how he lifted her up like a spoon to his mouth all night, and walk into the courtyard and
pick up the shears and cut a little part of me, and lie me down next to her mouth which is breathing heavily and changing all the dark in the room to light.»