press your ear to the wall, peel your eyes from the wallpaper

I see behind you, behind the
mirror of your eyes, the crush of dangerous shadows, the dead,
who look greedily through the empty sockets of your eyes, who
moan and hope to gather up through you all the loose ends of
the ages, which sigh in them. Your cluelessness does not prove
anything. Put your ear to that wall and you will hear the rustling
of their procession. the red book P327

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