The radius of the skull, if placed in direct juxtaposition to that of the proportions of certain Byzantine heads, will reveal a shocking naivete with regards to the understanding of human anatomy. Indeed, the Mesopotamians knew more and lived almost a thousand years earlier. So much for Byzantine depiction. But, I suppose that’s what happens when one’s head is thrust snugly between the buttocks of ridiculous dogma. From its beginnings until the fall of Constantinople. If I raise my beer from this humble, rancid oak table, you can see the watery relief print, the echo of the bottom of the glass. See how it resembles a skull? See? Looking down at my watch, I can see that it’s 9:55 in Tokyo. And, if one were to measure the perimeter of the broken circle of beer on this table and match it with the globe; taking the left most point (that point representing where we are) and following around to the right, one would end up precisely in the city of Tokyo; in good, old Japan. This is the poetry of things. So, I began with the skull. I have taken your hand, lead you to to Sumer; to the Royal Tombs of Ur, and bought you a drink. You have watched me drink my drink, place the glass back to the table; where it rested, for a while, before I drank from it again. Yet, you seem confused by the mention of Japan. There is no remedy, I just wanted to show off my new watch. It talks, in Japanese. A language which I don’t understand, yet, if you listened to me for long enough, you may believe I had travelled there once, perhaps sometime in my youth.