I found myself today.
I'd been lost you see. Weird, I know.
Well, there I was, walking down Broad Street in the March snow, mumbling to myself.
'Goethe,' I seemed to say, 'Goethe and Shakespeare. Where's Hamann, where? Tell Kafka I'm sorry, Celan's gone missing. Poor Tom's a cold...'
That last may have been a trick of the ears.
Well, there was nothing to be done. Had to give me a ride home. I'm still sleeping off whatever happened Out There.
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