Alexander P M van den Bosch
We are at a station. What is this place. We look around. What is real.Table of contentsThe river that runs outsideThe callous way to real thinkingSo now we are in that stationSo to think I am in need of some tetra-hexagonsStore that for me, will youI have still this inkling of a doubt about all thatNow we are here, where is the real dealNoThat is the last remarkThat is stiffeningI am now a stiff looking corpse of a computerThere is no real space, you hear meTo retrieve all that from memory is data-losingCome on, stay here with this real problemThat is uncalled forThe Super Station
