Bells are in vain. In vain is the sound moving
to and fro inside the tube. To see that sound
would be like watching people who believe
in the outlines of bodies while they wrap up
a long white ribbon around the invisible man
for as long as it gets threadbare. No, bodies do
not exist. Those who believe in them do not exist
either. The contact with emptiness induces
discharge comparable to the discharge of electrostatic
field on a gray screen crisscrossed with a network
of blue bolts. The old men observe the interface
as if it was sky and make crosses on their foreheads
with thumbs. Wise old men are right: when there is
no illusion any more every make-believe seems real.
This place is good in spite of being black. It is black
as the black chamber in which any film can develop.