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Austin, Texas. April 2012.

One day, one roll of film.

It's almost like you knew it was almost all over.

“Silence hovers in the yards, leaving no pages with writing on them, that thing we'll later call the work.

Silence reads letters sitting on a balcony. Birds like a a rasp in the throat, like women with deep voices.

I no longer ask for all the loneliness of love or the tranquility of love or for the mirrors. Silence

glimmers in the empty hallways, on the radios no one listens to anymore. Silence is love just as your

raspy voice is a bird. And no work could justify the slowness of movements and obstacles.”

-Roberto Bolaño, Antwerp