What was I saying? Something about a knife
and legs? Yeah, that's it. Like I've been
saying all along, the knife's not real.
Hell, the legs aren't even real, they're
just a convenient way to trick yourself into
believing that you can run away forever.
I've been running for three days straight.
First from the place where it all began, or
ended, I should say. Then from the cameras,
then the cops. And always from the fear that
what I did was real. I took the alleyway,
which made sense. Then the manhole.
Sometimes it doesn't matter if it's welded
shut. Then the sewer, and then the streets
again, and I've been running for three days
straight. None of it makes sense. I
shouldn't be running, I shouldn't be chased,
and I shouldn't be a hero. Being a hero
takes courage and I'm scared to death.
They'll say that things this bizarre don't
make sense, reason doesn't apply, and that
the world is not a logical place. I think
the problem is that the world isn't logical,
but that we don't understand logic as well
as we thought. How can you possibly
understand logic? With logic? You can't see
the eye you see with. Or so they say.