I've Become A Less Brave

The World Never Stops Unmaking What The World Never Stops Making. But Who Says The World Has To Make Sense?

When Insolvent, Pack Minimally, With A Valise Tough Enough To Be Thrown Onto A London Pavement From A First- Or Second-floor Window. Insist On Hotel Rooms No Higher.

Three Or Four Times Only In My Youth Did I Glimpse The Joyous Isles, Before They Were Lost To Fogs, Depressions, Cold Fronts, Ill Winds, And Contrary Tides... I Mistook Them For Adulthood. Assuming They Were A Fixed Feature In My Life's Voyage, I Neglected To Record Their Latitude, Their Longitude, Their Approach. Young Ruddy Fool. What Wouldn't I Give Now For A Never-changing Map Of The Ever-constant Ineffable? To Possess, As It Were, An Atlas Of Clouds.

Two People Who Are A Little Bit Deluded In Each Other's Favour. That's What Love Is, Isn't It?

I'm Not From A Milieu Where High-register Language Or Philosophical Ideas Were Welcome.