Sublime

That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from an accidental piecing together of separated things

Great barrels of spaghetti and macaroni of every shape and colour jostled festoons of children’s shoes strung up like Breton onions; picture postcards (of course) shared a counter with sugared almonds and cheese; Parma ham glowed pinkly delicious beside disorganised heaps of sunglasses; graceful flasks of Chianti dangled from hooks alternately with

As the nicotine becomes a bright blood-tide, crashing against sleep-dep, ugly ideas descend on Sternberg, and are recorded here w/o comment. Fucking pathetic farmer. Fucking pathetic Midwest Avis girl with anvil-shaped hair and a translucent wart on her brow and sugary-shit at the corners of her mouth.

The man takes the drink, the drink takes all the rest.)

Smells of dirt and wet and long-gone vegetables would merge into one unmistakable ineluctable smell, the smell of the monster, the apotheosis of all monsters. It was the smell of something for which he had no name: the smell of It, crouched and lurking and ready to spring. A creature which would eat anything but which was especially hungry for boym