Storytelling is the essential human activity. The harder the situation, the more essential it is.
I live in my head all day long and the world is a little dreamy.
For Rat Kiley, I think, facts were formed by sensation, not the other way around, and when you listened to one of his stories, you'd find yourself performing rapid calculations in your head, subtracting superlatives, figuring the square root of an absolute and then multiplying by maybe.
Certain blood was being shed for uncertain reasons.
A place where your life exists before you live it, and where it goes afterwards.
A giddy feeling, in a way, except there was the dreamy edge of impossibility to it - like running a dead-end maze - no way out - it couldn't come to a happy conclusion and yet I was doing it anyway because it was all I could think of to do.