Shall There Be Womanly Times?

It Was Common Enough, To See So Much Death And Want A Child. Common, Therefore Human, And He Wanted It All The More. When The Wounded Were Screaming, You Dreamed Of Sharing A Little House Somewhere, Of An Ordinary Life, A Family Line, Connection.

I’ll Wait For You. Come Back. The Words Were Not Meaningless, But They Didn’t Touch Him Now. It Was Clear Enough - One Person Waiting For Another Was Like An Arithmetical Sum, And Just As Empty Of Emotion. Waiting. Simply One Person Doing Nothing, Over Time, While Another Approached. Waiting Was A Heavy Word.

The Luxury Of Being Half-asleep, Exploring The Fringes Of Psychosis In Safety.

He Never Believed In Fate Or Providence, Or The Future Being Made By Someone In The Sky. Instead, At Every Instant, A Trillion Trillion Possible Futures; The Pickiness Of Pure Chance And Physical Laws Seemed Like Freedom From The Scheming Of A Gloomy God.

Someone Once Asked Me "if Your Life Could Be Extended To 150 And You Could Start Another Career, Would You?" And I Said "no, Thanks, I Think I'll Stick At This."