I heard this:

………………………………………………Where are you? Where are you?



Its dark, lets go out and smoke. Step under those trees and listen with your eyes.


Then:


Cigarettes are not abstract, just sort of gestures or something, not abstract. They are certain moods or something. Images, sounds and a sort of chattiness, phonetic and occasionally formal and it makes for intermittent idiosyncratic punctuation. They are farcical, obscene, ludicrous, a slave of a spirit which a later age will perhaps no longer comprehend. It is similar to a shadow that lies like a dog at your feet. Perhaps there are greater things and fairer silvery tones in nature, but this is mine and known to me, a blood relation, and more indeed than that. It’s a flesh eater.