I was sitting there and a sadness came over me, and I immediately imagined my death and all of my friends gathered around me. I thought of him and him and him and someone to hold me during my last days, and that’s when I knew that I wouldn’t tell a soul. I’d ask them to publish me the way it was always meant to be, without me, just my words. I’d ask them to stop the crying; we all have art to attend to. Because when I am gone creation will be all that’s left behind as it was in the beginning. And through creation will I never end. Then the sadness left me.