I was in the company of Buckminster Fuller and a common friend. Bucky was speaking non-stop, and at first I thought it was one of his well-known detours, but when I listened carefully I noticed he wasn’t making sense at all. He looked sick. I tried to calm him down, he lowered his head and said that he would die soon. Our common friend was visibly uncomfortable and didn’t know what to do.

—“Don’t worry Bucky, I will carry on your legacy.”

But then I had a moment of doubt, and added:

—“To the best of my capability, because my intellect is very limited. And in my own understanding of things, because that’s the only way I know how to do anything.”

He seemed to be satisfied with what I said, and soon expired. We laid him down in a niche in the wall, and put his arms on his chest. He seemed to be profoundly asleep.