Jay Nebel Hooper D etox 1 had to visit a nameless man in a padded cell to understand again. Witness a beginning somewhere without stars, an amalgam of blood, piss and shit on his hands, embedded in the square holes of his plastic bracelet, on his flimsy cotton gown, the bees eating away at the insides of his ears, daring him to give it another try, go one more round. He'd gnawed his knuckles down to filament and bone, dragging himself across the floor like some half dead animal, passing out, then blinking, awake and burning beneath a single lightbulb caged in steel.
Winter路 Spring 2008
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