An orderly took me to t ed doors.  to carry me because I could scarcely h. his eyes were feral, wild, scarcely human.

    quot;A; says t in a great good ;Your memory is playing tricks on you!quot;

    y, received me in a vast, ecravagant tapestries. I retain only t confused recollections of its exterior but I knoly  is a maze of cells like took a t ill bundled around my s into an incinerator. to me: quot;As of t moment you in t impulse of my o disappear from it.quot;

    But le ted as o tion of forms, ends to erode my sense of being by equipping me iplicity of beings, so t I confound myself s, presents and futures.

    I am eroding, I am roked as smootone is by ts t  to make up my uniqueness fall apart as apes of my memory and makes itutions. For, if my first capture incorporates  ruins t do not yet exist and my second capture resonates oo many ec  moving capture migulate a Middle-European nigold me by a complete stranger during train journey. For sometimes I cannot believe Ive suffered so much.

    If only I could remember everytly, just as it  burden of my past, I should be free.

    But in titute tess or Female Pope. t o  terrible red dress t reminds us all, every time , of t of ourselves   h of an oracular cave.

    arot Game, Madame Scs on a small ts special book, t ed beam in e apartments; t up and spread it out on o mimic her sex, which is also a forbidden book.

    tarot Game is like t medieval princes performed on te marble ceam in black and one team in s ed on suitably caparisoned cimes unloaded a freigepped delicately sideo prove tred; t, dressed as common militia. t plays tarot een of inue. If Madame Scs to to sounds not unlike screaming t t extorts from an electronic syntterns ted pack make at random and so ist, in his way.

    Noogetituted and played back so many times my memory is not a palimpsest of possibilities and probabilities, ts  rid me of and terestingly enoug tones; no. to in a still sky all ts of  a moutain kinds of eyes, t, once seen, can never be forgotten.

    , quot;I sa;t;, t   still, in my extremity, I s in remembering reminds y,  be a remedy for chaos.

    I need ell you t  e isolation, alterpenetration of all our experience gives us a vague but pervasive sense of closeness to one anot ears, I live over again tal moment of capture, it mig kind of dread t o you all.

    Yet our lives racted to tations imposed upon us by ts  ourselves; , to Madame Sco to t kno only see on ts arot Game, ic figures like apparitions from a forgotten t tates of ; says t riumpime over its oification, memory.

    e er ttle master is tucked up in bed for t. Our  in ime darkness of our quarters,  make out one anotures. Our disembodied voices rustle like dead leaves and sometimes retc our o toucly, to lay a finger on one anoto assure ourselves a voice issues from t aperture. Like drifting cobantial caresses linger for a moment upon our skins. e manifest ourselves in a gly fas already soms of toms of ttle to cates of limbo.

    Nevertain precious mnemonics. A  a mout a face. As long as I retain t any kind of context for ts dissolving p me as muc afraid of encountering Deaton in tte of ts something.

    (If you do find yourself partnering ton, you vanish, of course.)

    t only screec, e forgotten o speak.  beats me and I scream, ;Noalking! ;

    e are o ts. First, ; second,  o speak; to exist.

    t e souls. A mirror s one single one of us poor girls est notion of  mig, s us, ill living, not yet quite annied, and t overcomes me s all time.

    Yet tion. t myself, sometimes,  tarot Game, I and t of t formless and inco  a legion of selves. ers and touco confirm t till tents ed, it is almost as transformed into one of tured in Indian temples -- no point, any longer, in trying to ascertain t. t scrambles tapes, tiplicity of , no future -- first, a being in a void; and, soon, a void itself.

    C of acid. Everytegrates.

    Neverto my mnemonics like a droo a spar. As time passes and ate upon to reconcile myself completely to t t t contain any element at all of real memory. It  first, but soon I understood  a mout a face, are all till carry  does not elude me and, if t precisely memories, t all refugees carry o be parted, alte insignificant -- a spoon  ram ticket issued by a city t no longer exists. Small items, meaningless in t keys to an entire system of meanings, if only I can remember. . .

    t t I do not remember it. ts a painful beginning; but one must begin somey of sky outside t  inside. Sky. Noc. telescopic lens, zooms in on me as I lie in t of a summers day, not unlike trate of fles in from t, from time before my time in t  of grass, of geraniums, of slivered lemons. All ts bring back the world.)

    As I lie in tructed out of memory, I begin to perceive some element of paranoia in t kno I c of my clae. And so I ure; and rape, from tin, rapere, to seize by force. . . ts a curious pedantic bunny to  out from t udied Latin, once, t purpose I cant imagine. So ture and ts on making patterns, says t contemptuously; all t pretty floral ed up over chaos.

    t prepares carot Game, itution out of cropically, ured virginities.

    tique Persian carpet and rape me. And, to my amazement, a pattern emerges, alt is stylised as ture, preserved as an image, or an icon.

    I cannot tell you  inexpressible relief I greeted tisation, not of a memory, but of an inter-connection t made some sense in my pligo me. It o ttered promiscuously on to pick out my oo my  and feel to it. Or pull out my moto my os, whey belong.

    No jumped out of tograpo my e coac y for me t my  stopped momentarily, out of fear for my o. too, are rimmed  in y finger. te language of t kno slip to some o make sense of tinue to speak even if th is sealed up.

    to me oget speak at all, like te coace orderly ones, like t tell whs or no.

    And so I establisure to anniion: t a mout a face. After t ly silent.

    e elements into a grid, or system of connections, I felt for t time I entered tals of t s and belly and felt, not sorro anger t reated me; and s only t t turns against t-master: Isnt t-master dependent on ty? Cant I, in tematic randomness of my connections, control the Game?

    t reassembles ts t rendered it into non-being. As it does so,  groantial.

    And o extinction, one day; unless it is to freedom.

    t busily erased all tapes of my Viennese apocalypse; I am glad of it, it o tered ual beastly glee   nervous, t eration; quot;t; But t o remember it, rue or no; I kno I need to knoo enable me to endure time of torturers and all its secondure of fear -- tend-spells, tinction of the whore.

    tte. Yet in its refuse I o free me.