Activity

the desk. One day, I’d told myself, I’ll need to clean it properly and thoroughly, transform it into a tabula rasa upon which I might compose a great, momentous work. I’d been right: that day was now.

Not the Report per se, but rather its schema, prologomena, what-have-you.

a whole new Order of anthropological experience seemed to burst open and fulgurate before me, its pieces glittering and dancing madly

There were still unfinished bits, though: gaping lacunae where the carapace gave way to reveal guttery of half-laid floors

the more generic, therefore, the more pure, the closer to an unvariegated or unscrambled archetype.