How can someone write this beautifully?

"He is awake, with no idea what time it maybe, or whether, really, he has slept at all. He sleeps poorly these days. Strange, too, how time's become a blur. At first there's no reason to know the time of day, then days themselves give way, finally years. Till only the change of seasons marks another passage, another decline. To remember, he has to think back to where he lived, what rented room or cheap apartment in Gary, Gretna, Memphis, Seattle."

The first paragraph of James Sallis's A Killer Is Dying, not yet published.