I have a gilette razor that I am holding in my hand. I take a very sharp butcher's knife and cut away the plastic that holds the razor blades in place on the razor. I am very careful not to damage the ultra fine blades. The blade is lighter than you could possibly imagine. I think that if I was holding the blade between my fingers and let it go it would not fall. The blade is clean and almost white in colour; it reflects things but is so thin you can never really see what it is that it is reflecting. But I know that it is reflecting my fingers. I delicately lay the blade to rest on my left forefinger, where I can see fourteen hairs. Slice is too heavy a word. Slip, now there are no hairs on the back of my finger. Saah. That is the noise that the razor makes as it saahs the hairs off the back of each of my fingers. Critch. That is the noise of the blade critching the hairs from the back of my hand. My hand is bald. There is a sort of halo of arm hair that stops suddenly at my bald hand. My hand looks like the hand of a montsrous child that is overly large. I place the arm and hand hair in a small plastic bag that used to hold the dice from my Monopoly set. I place the bag under my pillow.
I am about to go to bed. I stop. My arm starts twitching uncontrolably - I can feel blood pumping around it. Tonight I am not sleeping.
I look at the fridge.