THE DIGITAL TREE . This was a man whose right hand had been buried who would spend his days in an empty room resting his feet against the upper corner of the window while holding a ship's porthole in his left hand; rhinoceroses would pierce it with their horns and allow their metallic hides to shine through
He had taken up the notion of being a poet and spent so much of his time talking about the war that he had neglected his right hand.
It had grown slowly and furiously and, without his being aware of it, had crossed through the very center of the earth and surfaced at the other end.
When the children of northern Sumatra suddenly saw a tree without leaves and without fruit, they rushed off to summon their parents, When they came, they brought heavy swords and felled the tree at its roots. A white liquid seeped from its ravaged bark.
From that moment on, this man as a poet, feels a sharp, cutting pain, but he cannot tell exactly where in his body it is contained.