January 5, 2005


Early in the night I heard a man cry out. I think he was shot. That’s what it sounded like. I mean his cries. I tried to remember if I had heard the shot, and it seemed that I had.

The sound he was making wasn’t continuous. He would breathe and cry out, breathe and cry out.

Later I believed I was dying. I don’t know if I dreamt this or if I was awake. If I dreamt it, I woke immediately. My thought was: This is the last moment of my life.

I didn’t know what I was dying of. I thought there had been a flash. I was dying of whatever made the flash.