I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

The frost makes a flower, the dew makes a star.

I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.

I have taken a pill to kill The thin Papery feeling.

I do not know who I am tonight.

I think I made you up inside my head.

The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.