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 seven-line fragment about HE going 'off the ice / he went in dying at our / the beginning of Light' — the speaker owns 'alot of it' but not Europe, a Europe/Stauffenberg coda in miniature.