[Give the Man a Name]

“On fences and poles were the signs and posters of the age. Men with hard eyes and stiff lips; men with mustaches and military hats; women in dresses, sleeves rolled, forearms flexed. The age the man knew not.”

“The sun isn’t chicken, it’s yellow.”— Dob Bylan

“If and only if the sun is yellow, it’s [not] chicken.” — Robert Zimmerman, PhD (Philosophy), aka The Unproving Prover

“If the sun is yellow, and is chicken a priori to its yellow-ness, and the reader, too, is yellow, and” — Robert Zimmerman, PhD’s celebrated non-proof, aka The Half-Whole Flagellation, or The Divine Strait of Messina

“Well, what is?” — Somebody Else

“For love” — R.M.N.

“For love” — В.В. Путин

“For, Love” — Drunk Uncle

“Love” — anon.

The man was. In a house he lived, a house in a city.

The city had been cut from a mold. First it was buildings. Now swarms resided there, within the limits. The city was.