2002-09-08 - 3:46 p.m.

Pay me with flowers and daffodil heads; pay me with just a touch upon my nose, my cheeks. To the sea I turn, but I can't hear the waves, I can't hear the water rushing up upon the sands. The sigh on the sky shifts away and disappears. Order of the day, sitting in this room, faint blue lighting upon my hands and the cold rain air through the window. Of it all, I sit, hands clasped, legs crossed, and my lips, closed and still.

Yossarian Yossarian

Write an entry to pianosa's diary of non-sense and possible madness.