March 1. Buenos Aires.

There are so many things that don’t interest me not a tiny bit. It’s not interesting to talk about them, so I leave that be. The first day of March passed by quietly and without any special effects. I hung out in an apartment in Buenos Aires and had a good time. There is not really not much to mention. Buenos Aires is a very western city, just as the guidebooks tell you it is. There is a ring of poverty though, surrounding the chique neighbourhood of downtown Buenos Aires where you find stylish caf├ęs and skyskrapers reflecting the intense light in their glass facades. Where you’ll see people on the sidewalk trying to make a living by polishing other people’s shoes or selling silly toys. But this is no guidebook I am writing. If you found it on a guidebook-
shelf I am very sorry for that. I have things that are slightly more important to mention. Today I killed Jack. That was pretty easy. I just breathed the air he was supposed to breath and he went
all blue and purple. His suffocating face did not even bear the marks of wonder. He seems to have accepted his final transformation. What was he? Nothing! His contribution to the world is void. He refused to accept that he has created a history all by himself, let alone live that history. I don’t understand Jack. But it’s not about understanding, it’s about fun. I’m glad he is gone
now. He was just an experiment that went wrong. Splitting up was not such a good idea after all. Maybe we joined again but don’t ask me I don’t know. You must be disappointed, and I am sorry for that. Now I just want to write, write before I think, write faster than I think. Every new thought must fall into a rosebed of words that has to be laid out before the thought emerges. Even if I don’t think I want to write. What difference does it make anyway? It’s just words that
won’t bite anyone. But they will have a little measurable side-effect, and that can be a very neat and worthy thing.

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