Triumphant, I gaze at the faraway shores of home, at the fields, the cheeses, the Parisian secretaries and the morning coffees. I shout insults across continents but the winds of time carry my angry knotted words up north, past iced wastelands and meditative birds of snow, past the magnetic pole and my dead ancestors. I have not done very well and I can see empty picture frames on the family walls where my life achievements should be displayed, I can see the shame and the embarrassment of all concerned as they gather on rainy Even my laughter is forever stained with an accent. The decision has been made.I shall not know myself, I shall defy the current, worship the most dubious divinities and practice treachery under every warm latitude. I remember you, towns of slate and granite. Towns of grocers and seedy philosophers, towns of child-cripplers. I remember your climates and your camouflaged garbage, I remember the silhouettes that never ever grew, I remember the stench of your conversations. May the future keep me calm and aloof, may the nights bring me more lovely dreams of dropping whole cargoes of bombs on your suffocating sites.

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