The keys should be somewhere in there. They are not in the bowl we assigned to it. The bowl has ruby eyes of some animal, ashtray & a dead fish. He doesn't smoke, or eat fish. There must have been a robbery but I can't point out the angle of incidence, or the time. The balcony is shitty & small, he is too smart to be duped by false images on the internet, he must like it like this. The cries of a grey parrot collide with the roof, he did not have a grey parrot, either. You know the drill, keep searching. I wonder why the ceiling fan doesn't kill it. It killed a firefly last night, there is a grave of dust behind the Chinese fan he bought in Amsterdam. There, look there for the keys. Leave your head in the bowl & take the heart if you're going to leave the door open, for the firefly or for anything that feels like living again. (First appeared in Praxis)