A lightbulb hanging by a crude and long since frayed rope above a wooden chair standing centrally in an otherwise empty rooms the windows of which have been blocked out by old newspapers a palimpsest of headlines, obituaries, and long since forgotten stories of a bygone every day keeping the light out of this room keeping time from lingering in its corners and spreading its dust throughout a room that against all odds retains a strange sense of pride. On the chair stands an old radio, the mechanisms having broken the radio emits but one transmission itself a ghostly audio space between stations taking words from one and combining them with another in a way that seems at first random but then, as one stops to listen, reveals a dormant intelligence
