Jeg faldt lige over det her totalt fede Bukowski-digt "letter from too far":
she wrote me a letter from a small room near the Seine. she said she was going to dancing class. she got up, she said at 5 o'clock in the morning and typed at poems or painted and when she felt like crying she had a special bench by the river. her book of Songs would be out in the Fall. I did not know what to tell her but I told her to get any bad teeth pulled and be careful of the French lover. I put her photo by the radio near the fan and it moved like something alive. I sat and watched it until I had smoked the 5 or 6 cigarettes left. then I got up and went to bed.
Ja, ja.