Collapsed Lexicon | Page 102

  102   first  open  letter  to  my  Son     dear   son,     do  not  pay  attention   to  city  lights.   the  seemingly  luminous  heat   they  exude  is  cold,   my  Son.  so     do  not  give  your  time   to  the  vendors,   yelling  from  the  streets.     do  not  lend   the  night  any  bit   of  yourself,  because     she  might  break   you  down   from  inside  -­‐  out.     do  not  listen   to  the  chants,   the  jeers,  my  Son.     follow   your  own   light,  my  Son.