" The dormitory had been carved out of those grand rooms once polluted by aristocrats and rich people.

Beatrice had disappeared from my world.

I was in Prague. Caught among buildings that were dark: a square of buildings. The poet of those buildings, Pierre, and I, lovers for many years, were fucking on a tattered red carpet in a hotel. I had to find my hotel.

Pierre pointed to an old, as if marbled, red column that rose above the city, so far that I couldn't see its top. He explained to me that this is his family's home: the column runs through the sky horizontally over the whole city.

I ascertained that Pierre's parents are wealthy. I had never known this before.

Pierre left me.

The dark square of buildings, named 'The Dormitory,' in which I was standing lies in the upper right quadrant of the city. A long, narrow, black plank or street connected this square to its twin that occupied the city's upper left quarter. I had to reach the second square so that I wouldn't be murdered.

As I started walking the black plank, the sky above the black was yellow.

Now I was in the second square, standing in a hotel, which was Pierre's hotel. So it must belong to Pierre. Since I hadn't wanted to be in his hotel, I had to be lost.

I was lost in a foreign city, as I've been time and time again. "

― Kathy Acker , My Mother: Demonology