Memory Has A Heavy Backspin, Yet It’s

Yet She Likes Complications. She Wishes She Could Turn And Say: I Like People Who Unbalance Me.

The World Spins. We Stumble On. It Is Enough.

He Didn't Like It All That Much When He First Came - All The Rubbish And The Rush - But It Was Growing On Him, It Wasn't Half Bad. Coming To The City Was Like Entering A Tunnel, He Said, And Finding To Your Surprise That The Light At The End Didn't Matter; Sometimes In Fact The Tunnel Made The Light Tolerable.

He Felt For A Moment Uncreated. Another Kind Of Awake.

The Tunnels Of Our Lives Connect, Coming To Daylight At The Oddest Moments, And Then Plunge Us Into The Dark Again. We Return To The Lives Of Those Who Have Gone Before Us, A Perplexing Möbius Strip Until We Come Home, Eventually, To Ourselves.