Escritoire Rasa

As the author (note-taker) of these pages for a person who prefers to remain anonymous, nameless, I retain the right to remain nameless. I could, yes I could, delete this exegesis with a simply tap of my index-finger, sending all this note-taking into the ether, the nameless unnamable ether of my imagination, the firmament of my cogito-escritoire-sum. But as that would be an act of self-denial, I won’t; at least for the time being, and time (and this you must know, even at the expense of my wellbeing) is simply a figment of my escritoire, the tabula rasa that sits between my hypothalamus and the pineal gland.