By Jack Joseph Smith
Original Scan
AI Interpretation
The page speaks in a rough hole-and-line imagery, mixing childhood, stopping, and a refusal to keep shooting with a strange grin remembered at the edge.
This is one of the more unstable handwritten pages, but its emotional contour is still visible. Something deep, animal, and trapped opens into a statement about stopping and no longer shooting, then shifts toward a meeting-place at the far side of the hole. The final remembered grin gives the fragment a dark, half-surviving tenderness.
A Jon-note that half-remembers a shared childhood refusal. I Ain't shoot'en Any More becomes the page's center, with the racoon hole and the far side of the hole functioning as the landscape where that refusal was first made. Memory as terrain.