Yeah, he was like a machine. Or like some mangled insect, still humping away even after somebody’s bitten off its head. I found out afterwards it wasn’t just me, and it wasn’t just women. There were men, too. Probably goats, hamsters, the slots of vending machines, toasters, who knows. His sister told me he got beaten up in a police cell, and I laughed then quickly put on a serious face and said how terrible. Anyway. Too late now. The past has already happened. It's up to us to change the future. Christ. I sound like a fucking greetings card.
