Words Have A Life; Without Response They

Language Is An Archaeological Vehicle... The Language We Speak Is A Whole Palimpsest Of Human Effort And History.

Is There An Existence That Is Only Mine?

Me, What's That After All? An Arbitrary Limitation Of Being Bounded By The People Before And After And On Either Side. Where They Leave Off I Begin, And Vice Versa.

What A Weird Thing Smoking Is And I Can't Stop It. I Feel Cosy, Have A Sense Of Well-being When I'm Smoking, Poisoning Myself, Killing Myself Slowly. Not So Slowly Maybe. I Have All Kinds Of Pains I Don't Want To Know About And I Know That's What They're From. But When I Don't Smoke I Scarcely Feel As If I'm Living. I Don't Feel As If I'm Living Unless I'm Killing Myself.

More And More I'm Aware That The Permutations Are Not Unlimited.