What does anyone genuinely desire?
Stones and bones run deep and buried. Intuition calcifies, sinks and becomes dense rock, warmed by
the sun or the blood. Stones and bones are the truth, wrapped in well-meaning, stupid nature.
Each primal urge faces its opposite: one is from the bones through the heart, the other is from the stones through the head. Or both are bony, bent out of shape by the hidden, tripped-over stone.
The stone is money; the bone is sex. The stone is house; the bone is home. The stone is death; the bone
is also death.
(It is recommended that this slim volume be read in a single sitting.)