første forslag til epigraf
(what a horrifying dream... and yes, very kafkian. it seems to me to have so much to do with the power of language — you pronounce yourself guilty, you are pronounced to be arrested — your confinement is in word only — you can leave but you choose to stay. the source of your guilt (hashish) is simultaneously symbolic of home (the keys). you want to write a novel but remember that you are in [denmark] — you can escape to new york, but you lack the “keys” to get in. and so you live below ground, in a small civilazation, a sub(way) culture — where life with its movements and celebrations goes on.
strange, but not so strange...)
