And As Things Fell Apart, Nobody Paid

After A While You Learn That Everything Stops.

But... What About Us? What About The Past?" She Asks Blankly. "the Past Isn't Real. It's Just A Dream," I Say. "don't Mention The Past.

History Is Sinking And Only A Very Few Seem Dimly Aware That Things Are Getting Bad.

I Like The Idea Of A Writer Being Haunted By His Own Creation, Especially If The Writer Resents The Way The Character Defines Him.

And As The Elevator Descents, Passing The Second Floor, And The First Floor, Going Even Father Down, I Realize That The Money Doesn't Matter. That All That Does Is That I Want To See The Worst