You can be so much in a room that the world outside turns to water. You've got the heater blowing out burnt air, but you still don't get warm. Your ankles are singed, but your head's in a bucket of ice. Time drips like a stalactite. The water for the coffee boils away in a tree of steam.
Iain SinclairAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: british
- Born: June 11, 1943
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