Herbert Quain. "April March".
(Non-existent novel by Jorge Luis Borges) Entry point
"Will she come?"
"And will she say?"
"And then what will happen?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't want to even think about it."
"Why is it unpleasant?"
"Because then inside me great ideas are born, and everything starts to swarm with small strange creatures that leave traces, but I like order."
"Black color - white light?"
"Yes, color like a thread, like an awakening. Light is like the deprivation of reason and its acquisition. Color is like sound. Light is like light or light-headedness. No."
"No in the sense of yes!"
"And everything else?"
"All the rest? Are you not listening to me? That's enough, I’m done talking with you!"
"It's light out."
"Although not sunny."
"However, the light is inside."
"My thoughts move quickly and easily.
But my emotions became almost tangible compacted round yellow shapes."
"This is good, soon they will burst and begin to trickle with joy, and here, almost on the verge of comprehension a missed opportunity slowly dissolves."
"Do you regret it?"
"Not at all."
"It's good that we nevertheless learned how to understand each other."
"And there's no longer any need to say why. Your why is green, mottled and lifeless."
"And your when spreads so unpleasantly."
"And your maybe anyway ... tricky. It multiplies, and spins and turns."
"So this means it's possible?"
"I'll leave now, and you stay and wait for my answer in the affirmative."
"She's gone. The fool. Although, if the answer is yes, then why wait? She’s not the fool, I'm the cretin! WAIT! WAIT! I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOUUUUU... "
"Time's up, you have to decide something."
"I thought and thought ... I've thought through everything to tatters."
"And beyond the tatters it's dead dark, and there is no longer any possibility of thinking."
"And you think without depth, but with breadth."
"But the breadth is multicolored and blurred."
"So, enough, what is your answer?"
"My answer is correct, but it will not be provided now, bye."