One Thing Must Be Avoided At All

...."the Sound Of A Barrel Organ Rising From The Deepest Golden Vein Of The Day; Two Or Three Bars Of A Chorus, Played On A Distant Piano Over And Over Again, Melting In The Sun On The White Pavement, Lost In The Fire Of High Noon.

So, It Comes To Pass That, When We Pursue An Inquiry Beyond A Certain Depth, We Step Out Of The Field Of Psychological Categories And Enter The Sphere Of The Ultimate Mysteries Of Life. The Floorboards Of The Soul, To Which We Try To Penetrate, Fan Open And Reveal The Starry Firmament.

In Our Town There Was A Gestapo Officer Who Loved To Play Chess. After The Occupation Began, He Found Out That My Father Was The Chess Master Of The Region, And So He Had Him To His House Every Night.

Yet What Is To Be Done With Events That Have No Place Of Their Own In Time; Events That Have Occurred Too Late, After The Whole Of Time Has Been Distributed, Divided, And Allotted; Events That Have Been Left In The Cold, Unregistered, Hanging In The Air, Homeless, And Errant?

Reality Is As Thin As Paper And Betrays With All Its Cracks Its Imitative Character.