Some People Are Little Chernobyls, Shimmering With

I Can't Explain The Alchemy That Transmuted One Evening Into The Equivalent Of Years Held Lightly In Common. The Only Way I Can Put It Is That We Recognized, Too Surely Even For Surprise, That We Shared The Same Currency.

I’m The Least Fanciful Guy Around, But On Nights When I Wonder Whether There Was Any Point To My Day, I Think About This: The First Thing We Ever Did, When We Started Turning Into Humans, Was Draw A Line Across The Cave Door And Say: Wild Stays Out. What I Do Is What The First Men Did. They Built Walls To Keep Back The Sea. They Fought The Wolves For The Hearth Fire.

Privately, I Consider Religion To Be A Load Of Bollocks, But When You Have A Sobbing Five Year Old Wanting To Know What Happened To Her Hamster, You Develop An Instant Belief In Anything That Dissolves Some Of The Heartbreak Off Her Face.

There Was A Time When I Believed I Was The Redeemed One, The Boy Borne Safely Home On The Ebb Of Whatever Freak Tide Carried Peter And Jamie Away. Not Any More. In Ways Too Dark And Crucial To Be Called Metaphorical, I Never Left That Wood.

A Bore Or An Uggo Might Manage Not To Get Up Anyone's Nose, But If A Girl's Got Brains And Looks And Personality, She's Going To Piss Someone Off, Somewhere Along The Way.