We must do extraordinary things. We have to. It would be absurd not to.

It all meant something. Until it didn't.

Because I grew up with this naive expectation of people doing right, I get shocked by every little violation.

Having lost people when they were young, you feel intimately acquainted with mortality, I guess. Though I procrastinate worse than anybody.

No. There is no balance, and no retribution, and no rules. The rules and balances you blather about are hopeful creations of a man fearing death.

Nothing again. No one is listening. No one is waiting to hear the kicking of a man above. It is unexpected. You have no ears for someone like me.

How had this happened? Everyone in the world knew more than us, about everything, and this I hated then found hugely comforting.