From a letter to Milena, quoted in Speaking Into The Air: A History of the Idea of Communication, by John Durham Peters: Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on their way by the ghosts. It is on this ample nourishment that they multiply so enormously. Humanity sees this and fights against it and in order to eliminate as far as possible the ghostly element between people and to create natural communication, the peace of souls, it has invented the railway, the motor car, the aeroplane. But it’s no longer any help, these are evidently inventions made …

(i) “there is no ebb — the face of the wave, rising, becomes a wall, and then the sky” — nothing of significance [so the boy whispers, descending spirals: tastes you on his skin, tastes secrets under the skin of the desire; eating red apples, green fruits from Chinatown + here the bonfire itself: all that will burn, aflame. bring into the garden, love, three lanterns — these nights grow cold. :- the sun has plowed; its gold, now buried deep, motions the becoming — you know, ear-pressed, its clamour [the vanity of under the furrows of Highbury Fields life] …