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Ah, Humanity! To Gertrude Stein!

Taste: a thick warmth and end-of-harvest spice reminiscent of oranges: scotch
Touch: a heavy drunk pulling you down into a leather armchair, let us talk now of safaris, "To Hemmingway!"; on introduction he takes my hand holding it for seconds and seconds, he is holding it chamois soft and it is growing, electrically, warmer. What will happen next? An Argentine Tango? I pull away, and wonder later.
Smell: perfumed fragrance, three floral, chemical layers thicker than the average department store, the duty-free store
Sight the nun in white with a bright pink habit flowing down her back; t-shirts: "Metaphors be with you.", "My Marxist Feminist Dialetic Brings All the Boys to the Yard".
Sound: conversation in an atrium, an indoor fountain burbles; space ray gun warbles, an airport vehicle backing up
Extra: on his deathbed the World War II veteran is asked to remember, "What it is like to kill someone? What does it do to your humanity?" These are questions we need answers to, knowledge we, and our leaders, should share. But the veteran, in hospital, is too tired to respond. He does not wish to answer. He cannot be there on the battlefield anymore. How long has it been? But he tells his nephew one final thing: The men dying, they cried, "Wasser! Wasser!", the word for water. He remembers.; My name is Ele' Chim.; in a dream a loose tooth; the foggy daze of evening airport arrivals distance expands time, it seems we left so long ago

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