Sometimes
I want
to be out
of touch.
I do not
want to
know what
is going on.
I do not want
information
and I do not
want to give
information.
I don’t want
information—
I want
relationships.
I do not
want to
believe
one thing.
There are
too many
things to
believe.
I don’t want
to be more
productive.
I want to
walk across
Spain,
to come to
some little
town where
men drink
small glasses
of beer
at a café
and sweat.
