Nothing often poses in men as wisdom.

“If only,’ Shiroyama dreams, ‘human beings were not masks behind masks behind ma…”

“People are obscenities. Would rather be music than be a mass of tubes squeezing…”

“Because her laughter spurts through a blowhole in the top of her head and spray…”

“Was there anything under those lids? Remorse, resentment, even indifference? Or…”