I felt age within me. Distance. The futility of wandering. Torpor. I looked back setting my bundle down. I looked back not knowing where to set my foot. Serpents appeared on my path, spiders, field mice, baby vultures. They were neither good nor evil now - every living thing was simply creeping or hopping along in the mass panic.

And how can we talk of order overall when the very placement of the stars leaves us doubting just what shines for whom? Not to speak of the fog's reprehensible…

The going's rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sor…

My dreams - even they're not as populous as they should be. They hold more solitude than noisy crowds.