One thing can be said with certainty about the contents of this book: Zarathustra did not say anything of the kind. But I'm sure I've thought about this more than once. Because the questions are more and more simple and obvious. Exciting pursuits of the mind for an elusive thought, the violent use of the letters of the Cyrillic alphabet, the cruel transformation of meanings, the coffin on the wheels of samsara, the bloody traces of midnight insights, the dazzling radiance of human stupidity - all this is here, incomprehensible and indefiniteActually, Max Fry didn't say any of that either. But from time to time I wrote down - on paper napkins in cafes, on the backs of advertising leaflets, on blankets of elephants supporting the earth's firmament, on cumulus clouds, on my own phone and in the margins of the day before yesterday's newspapers. Because sometimes writing down is the easiest way to think and articulate.