After A While You Learn That Everything

History Is Sinking And Only A Very Few Seem Dimly Aware That Things Are Getting Bad.

The Snowy Owl Has Eyes That Look Just Like Mine, Especially When It Widens Them. And While I Stand There, Staring At It, Lowering My Sunglasses, Something Unspoken Passes Between Me And The Bird - There's This Weird Kind Of Tension, A Bizarre Pressure, That Fuels The Following, Which Starts, Happens, Ends, Very Quickly.

Disintegration---i'm Taking It In Stride.

I Have To Return Some Videotapes

What Keeps Me Interested--and It Always Does--is How Can She Be A Bad Actress On Film But A Good One In Reality?