A boundless wasteland where time and space stop, quiet and
lonely
The place of her banishment
She loves to deck herself out in the
Categorical time and space of philosophy
She waits for a kind of
Purposeful existence and event
Alas! A person
A thing cut into countless pieces
Walking the street, blown along by the wind
Whose eyes have no expression
Who is without sexual desire
She is pasted on that vertical wasteland
To face reality, without bound or limit
All alone