Everyone wants what keeps repeating:
Warmth and light in the middle of the night,
Films which play for free and there’s always seating.
I will be immortal, but I don’t know when.
What is the soul?
After it repeats, it never repeats again.
The monotony of repetition
had been a problem before.
I was young. I loved to repeat
whatever I found sweet.
I didn’t understand the sorrow of the old:
a fear nothing would happen anymore.
The wisdom of the old! I should have been afraid.
But how? I didn’t know how the first thing was made.
Everyone wants what keeps repeating.
This robot has a beautiful face.
I will be sick of repetition, but I don’t know when.
What is the soul?
After it repeats, it never repeats again.