still the same, there is no way to think. Especially thinking that nothing has changed, I'm completely
lost . I fear it will go on like this forever. For several nights I swore to go back early the next morning,
but I kept traveling and listening to the sickening radio. Night in the same
motel . Watch impersonal TV, cut off from the world. You
did , there's no need to cross America for it. When you lose your sense of self-identity, you lose
touch . You've been this way since the beginning, and that's why you're always looking for evidence of existence. You treat your
stories and experiences like raw eggs. As if only you can feel it, that's why you keep
taking pictures. To further prove that you are really observing something. That's why you are
here . Hope someone listens to you. . . Actually you are talking to yourself. It's not a long-term solution,
my dear. . . Yes, taking a Polaroid (one-shot photo) is indeed about evidence,
and I felt inexplicable anxiety in the process of waiting for the photo. I can't wait to compare photos with reality
, but even this comparison doesn't calm me down. Photos never catch up with reality
. . . . . (You can't spend the night here), and I keep going on like I'm obsessed. .
(You really can't communicate). You can't stay here, hear? Are you serious? I'm
sure I can't help you, although I want to comfort you. I do not know. I also don't know how to live
, and no one teaches me. The crossroads of the city are like clearings in the woods.
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