Page 31

The page is a short handwritten lyric about waiting, age or scale, ice, dying, light, and the strange admission of having `alot of it` but not Europe.

The corrected phrase `few hundred` sharpens the page into a miniature historical or cosmic reckoning. The poem moves from compressed image into anticlimax, making Europe feel both absurdly withheld and heavily symbolic.

A spare handwritten fragment that opens in mythic-historical scale - 'HE could wait when / he was few hundred' - then collapses into death and dawn: 'off the ice / he went in dying at our / the beginning of Light.' It ends on a flat, almost comic admission of possession without inheritance - 'I got alot of it / but I don't have Europe' - which closes the European, Stauffenberg-haunted thread of the book in miniature. The capitalized 'HE' and 'Light' are kept as written, and the source spelling 'alot' is preserved.