There Isn't Enough Of Anything

A Man Without Hands Came To The Door To Sell Me A Photograph Of My House. Except For The Chrome Hooks, He Was An Ordinary-looking Man Of Fifty Or So.

He Wondered If She Wondered If He Were Watching Her.

In The Beginning, When I Was Trying To Write, I Couldnt Turn Off The Outside World To The Extent That I Can Now.

I Guess My Writing Has Changed As My Life Has.

Ralph Also Took Some Classes In Philosophy And Literature And Felt Himself On The Brink Of Some Kind Of Huge Discovery About Himself. But It Never Came.