a long stretch of time had passed wherein those around me had excelled at their talents while i had spent aimless hours seeking some lord at the edge of the water and so one day i woke from a stupor and found myself facing him in some inconsequential establishment on a street angry with traffic and short foreign women and i began to observe him be utterly alone with company present and the thought crashed down like so many days spent in wonder and it said this- it is better to be alone and so then all that had come before and would pass was rendered wasteful- and i knew there would be no help for i'd done it again- taken the impressions- scents and sounds of a man and built myself a memory tank to keep them in that is neither shallow enough to climb out of or deep enough to drown in.