For to end yet again skull alone in a dark place. Dark place, place that is like a cavern but not a cavern, for if it were a cavern then one could say that it was a cavern, but it is not, so one cannot. Skull alone in a dark place. The endless dripping of water from the ceiling of the cavern or rather not-cavern but none of it touches the skull. But so then what will touch the skull. Dust, unsettled dust, and then if no one touches the dust, if no one traces a finger over the dust settling on the skull, then what is one to think. Heedless stare the headless eyes. But if no one is to see how is one to know. For to end yet again — skull, alone, in a dark place. And yet, if it was all summed up if it was all crushed into a ball then what is one to say for the dust falls on the unsettled eyes and yet heedless stare the eyes, in the dark cavern which is not a cavern, with the drip drop of the water from the rock icicles on the ceiling, but no one is there to hear, so how is one to know?