26 letters of the alphabet, 10 numerical digits, a handful of punctuation: the primary colours of David Foster Wallace’s “Infinite Jest”. Like a tearaway he has smudged, splashed, smeared; nudged the known horizon of alphanumeric permutation.
Claustrophobic sentences and paragraphs, the numerous references and sub-references that remind of an eternal periphery, it feels of an everyday we normally choose to (or must) ignore.
Anyway. To the person that left it at the bus stop, sorry but it's mine now, you're not getting it back. And you won't find it either, it's now buried under some random tree with the rest of my secret stash. Ha.
