What Business Is It Of Yours Where

Ah Me, Thou Destiny, Giver Of Evil Gifts.

If The Rule You Followed Brought You To This, Of What Use Was The Rule?

A Dream Inside A Dream Might Not Be A Dream.

I Got Here The Same Way The Coin Did.

They Trekked Out Along The Crescent Sweep Of Beach, Keeping To The Firmer Sand Below The Tidewrack. They Stood, Their Clothes Flapping Softly. Glass Floats Covered With A Gray Crust. The Bones Of Seabirds. At The Tideline A Woven Mat Of Weeds And The Ribs Of Fishes In Their Millions Stretching Along The Shore As Far As The Eye Could See Like An Isocline Of Death. One Vast Salt Sepulchre. Senseless. Senseless.