The perfect words. That’s all he needed. No detail was avoidable.
His hypothetical writing wasn’t the representation of some great imaginative world currently all around him with a pulsing vitality, keeping him entertained while others continued on in their own dull lives. It was, rather, an attempt to add a small part of that world into the mundane experiences that he found himself in all those fruitless nights.
There was a man who saw the world as a collection of spirals. He would watch traffic as it went past and as the tires