50 x 35cm
Highly subversive, or so he thought it was, he finally
completed the manuscript. With the last of his money,
he had his book printed by one of those slapdash, tiny,
backyard printers who use shoddy paper & poor materials.
The book was a mess. Not a copy was sold. People even
refused free offers of it. Or else they gave it away in disgust
or pretended to forget it on seats in buses or trains.
The writer, eventually absolutely discouraged, has
placed his books, a huge pile, in his dingy moss-damp
toilet. Each time nature calls he uses pages he has
torn out. Afterwards he pulls the chain, flushing subversion
on its way.
His book is traveling, going places underground after