Don’t forget that the entire conversation is based on the premise that a huge black alien skyscraper/ship is travelling towards you and [pause] and in the slipstream of the ship is a flaming tail of memories and moments of pleasure – easy opportunities for pleasure – which you could get caught up in but when you want to look at the trail of the space-craft you must go back to the black front of the ship/box.
Why is there always this questioning? The desire for those moments of pleasure rather than the black front but then the questioning and the wrenching back to force oneself to return to the obtuse; the black; the front?
Then, in the window, one saw the most beautiful, ‘Turneresque’ representation of a skyscraper [pause] which was beyond sublime; a perfect painting of a black skyscraper; an absolutely perfect painting of a skyscraper, a squidge of lights at the top of it, just enough to bring it all into focus, and a range of different blacks. It was like a black tower on fire in the sky but with the absence of fire itself. Fire would be too [long pause] Fire wouldn’t be subtle enough [long pause] Fire [long pause].
The suggestions of colours and windows [long pause].
There’s basically a big blob, scratching up with sort-of-straws [long pause] into the air. And all the world was known within the box and the box was travelling towards Earth. The box had the entirety of Earth inside it and the box was also a perfect representation of a picture; of a thing.