Empty, meticulously named folders sketched out taxonomies that I thought could contain the world in perfect miniature. I would spend days on these systems and then abandon them as soon as some intrinsic fault or other became clear. Few of them would have been legible to anyone else. None could account for the basic fact that I spent most of my time driving rented cars: the least categorizable activity, filling only the loosest stretches between more defined spaces and periods of life.

— Death Drives in the Aleph, shore leave, 2025