And he who I insulted most bore it best, and she who I fought with most is now my protector. Unexpected. The rest are slaughtered to me, it means nothing anyway, and if I heard of them before they’ve heard of me then I’d let all fame and work, on the part of ownership, be happy.

And if you see me pass in public don’t bother saying too much, my old friends…it’s one of the last harvests for our western sugarfields and it goes well for this Indian season.

I left you a present. It’s my memory of the day I was born. You thought I would forget after a while or that I never would. That’s the generosity for you, that you were right but only after you were corrected.

Someone gave me the same gift but they failed to sign their name. I took the present, in any course.


And the generosity keeps the equator mapped and inaccurate.