I Think Massive Migration Is Inevitable. As

For If There Were A List Of Cosmic Things That Unite Us, Reader And Writer, Visible As It Scrolled Up Into The Distance, Like The Introduction To Some Epic Science-fiction Film, Then Shining Brightly On That List Would Be The Fact That We Exist In A Financial Universe That Is Subject To Massive Gravitational Pulls From States. States Tug At Us. States Bend Us. And, Tirelessly, States Seek To Determine Our Orbits.

I Think There's A Natural Link Between The Fact That Our Self Is A Story That We Make Up And That We're Drawn To Stories. It Resonates, In A Way.

And With A Last Stardrop, A Last Circle, I Arrive, And She's There, Chemical Wonder In Her Eyes.

When People Talk About The Death Of The Novel, They Are Speaking Of The Need For The Birth Of Something Different.

We Need A Self Because The Complexity Of The Chemical Processes That Make Up Our Individual Humanities Exceeds The Processing Power Of Our Brains.