Foot pulls herself up out of the margin. People call her Footnote because her name is Foot. Sometimes nicknames are longer, sure. Long stripes of sun as well, & stretches of her own shadow (a strip of arm a strip of arm a strip of body trunk). Margin of a street a pavement, ditch, a sideways walk. Foot disappears her arm by inching it toward alternatively her torso shadow then the shadow of the cypresses she passes in the thin sides of the road. Torso shadow, cypress. Foot tears a fringe of elastic, hem from off her skirt. The road itself turns into a perimeter & from periphery into an open field, dusty so much, the dust was in the shape of grass. Foot thinks with comfort library, lye-berry, lie-bury; in a lie-bury should be lain down, should be buried with grace, with movement as the sun as seen from here, this open field of dusty grass. Should be floated, some scales of skin, onto the carpet, mixed with the dust blanketing books, circumscribe complete lie bury surface. Footnote describes some limits of some books, by lightly feeling, slightly moving fingers, or pressed (into) by palms, ridges, backs of hand; by sliding across barely surfaces, both sides of forearm, frontal forehead. Foot sits her butt unto her sole of foot & top of foot, kneeling alternatively left / right armpit, unto right knee, steadying herself, uncomfortably comfortably from toppling into too far of one of many sides, such that, enabled begins to tear some margins out of some books (she sits at novels, section A & Z, she occupies beginning & the end of bibliography, & rips most quietly thru all biography). Foot gives allowance for some text to come off with the margin white, but only marginalia & accidental parts of letters here & there. Foot mostly tears, straight down the page, an edge where text snuggles up to edges up to margin; elbowroom allowed only hardly only for traces of some letters’ remnants; some strips of fringe Foot rips, come with remains of ink, partial limbs of crippled letters left behind. Rip up down, left page right page; variation. Rip up down two pages same time; rip down up, up down. Markoff, neighbour, outline, rim. Markoff, neighbour, outline. Foot sits at the novels section, letter Z, a bookrest for the other books; Zazie dan le Metro she works her way through, randomly the Zs; rips in no meditated order Zwink, Zweig, Zonderland; Župančič, Zúñiga, Zimmerman. She tears off all the lonely characters at novels’ end. Flapping tail ends, wandering off into a space, parts of their letters, sometimes coming off the page; turning corner, jumping trains, jumping into out of, long lost long found, lover’s arms; dissolution into sentence, of a language, of a house of prison, of the many plotted lovers; staring out of windows despite the rain both being & not being there; vanishing point, horizon, rim; bounding in a back of bus; walking alone, away, on frozen water; carried away on a thick, big jag of ice; lines an alone girl traces with her fingers airborne, around magically objects; a boy or girl alighting, barely or just not, from a train, as running comes a girl or boy to ride with it; fitting a lead, perfectly straight-line, into a click pencil; Footnote, sometimes, she dislocates a word or two; cracks off a patch a triangle of words. Foot gathers all her strips of paper margins; selects them into bundles & in piles, Foot rolls her surplus up into a ball & sidles out the empty lie-berry so careful & so quiet, leaving it empty silent sullen. On her way home Foot eats some margin calls up whole, she saves some latitude allowing some papers somewhere to fall; at home she plasticises a book covered with margin white; delineates the edges of a decorative windowsill, creates a frill a trimming for her TV; she stuffs some slips into between her big round lips; she crops her head, wraps her wrist as if a bandage; Foot stuffs margins into cracks, stops holes, counter mouse, counter smudge, smoothing over every edge. Foot manages to lose her stolen margins, stick them up her holes her cracks, locate them into places where they merge with boundaries & surfaces, salvaged from their stasis, librarinazation, having about to be become edges enplaned, the surface & the close of frames, a frame and backboard, sideboard and its weight. Finished sticking, pushing, crunching, squeezing, fitting; finished finishing her flat with paper margins. Foot, fatigued, tries to skirt the edges of her flat, hem & lines that are no longer there; Foot makes open attempts at opening an inside door, inside her flat but does not really open it just tugs a little pulls a little, hanging paw. Foot hangs her shoulders, arms, hands, fingers. Foot sidles sullenly to where there used to be a line, transition from one somewhere to another. Escapes or cracks or corners are no longer visible, but Foot in horizontal mode rolls over & again over, then with her shoulder feels a verticality, a wall. She rolls one half an iteration more, so that she pushes with her face & forehead into a cool unflinching wall, (or floor, she is no longer sure)

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