I’ve got one holy life to live.
M is a great film by Fritz Lang. Postal code letter for Toronto. Name of a monthly teenage magazine. British techno-pop band. Song by The Cure. Book by John Cage. M stands for Master. For Margarita. For Metro. For Methionine. For Manchester. For Malkmus. For Marie. M stands for Murder.
How did we get here? How have you managed to stick by me all this time? Is it because you are not better than anyone else and just want to be entertained? To witness this murder, to be a part of it without doing anything? Now that is the perfect murder.
Well, at first it was all fairly simple. Back on the 7th of December I wrote that someone is going to be murdered. I wrote it like this:
SOMEONE IS GOING TO BE MURDERED.
Admittedly there have been times when I thought I got it wrong. That the voice I heard (I know exactly what you’re thinking) on December the 6th, in the street, was saying something else. Or maybe nothing.
Okay, so the guests are downstairs. The whole thing is to begin quite soon now.
The doorbell is ringing.
Perhaps it’s me who should open the door.
P.S. To be continued.