A Theory Is A Battlefield In Your

I Generally Concentrate On Work For Three Or Four Hours Every Morning. I Sit At My Desk And Focus Totally On What I’m Writing. I Don’t See Anything Else, I Don’t Think About Anything Else.

I'm Not So Weird To Me.

Silence. How Long It Lasted, I Couldn't Tell. It Might Have Been Five Seconds, It Might Have Been A Minute. Time Wasn't Fixed. It Wavered, Stretched, Shrank. Or Was It Me That Wavered, Stretched, And Shrank In The Silence? I Was Warped In The Folds Of Time, Like A Reflection In A Fun House Mirror.

Exhaustion Pays No Mind To Age Or Beauty. Like Rain And Earthquakes And Hail And Floods.

Music Brings A Warm Glow To My Vision, Thawing Mind And Muscle From Their Endless Wintering.