Life is a lot like literature: you always know how it is going to end. Something to consider though, Texas is on the edge of a vast desert. In many ways it is the negation of people or persons. It is like a monstrous clap. It is an ocean. Just think of it this way: what are the stories people tell each other about New York? What are the stories people tell each other about Texas? My neighbor is outside in the morning mist with a hatchet on his belt, watering his fruit trees. He believes in Armageddon. It’s the stuff of literature, the negation of who we are.