We're landfill thinkers, W. says. Landfill philosophers. But he doesn't mind. He has the sense of edging forward in the darkness, he says. He has the sense of digging his burrow, of pushing on in dark times.
And what kind of burrow am I digging?, W. wonders. What kind of tunnel can a mole make without claws, a mole that's gone mad underground?
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