The man stepping out of the church will see
the flags at half-mast—that means the sky
hooked itself on them as it descended, dragged them down,
wishing, perhaps, to press them into the earth.
I turn around, let go of the door and run into the bedroom, it was about seven steps away, I look into the open door, the breeze from the draft moves the shades, Sandy lies on the bed without any sign of life, the bed is red around her.
[Hughes] did try to be a collector, but ultimately in the end, he lost all of these women. He didn't have what it took to hold onto them in any meaningful way. And over the course of time, he didn't really even want to be in the room with anybody.
it has to do w. the men / women & children of Polis / B who harvest their data in / this / polis of ours the best polis / on earth