We accumulate things by erecting a barricade against oblivion. The houses display small odds and ends arranged in a precise or imprecise order, until they become a bazaar, an intimate store with its decorations. These are the objects, medals that one is awarded to feel safe if the head is emptied. I go out onto the balcony with the cup of the cocoa. It's 9:06. Twenty-second day of confinement. Upon entering I look again at the accumulated artifacts on the shelves of the
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