Time, That Most Abstract Of Humanity's Homes.

It Is Thanks To My Evening Reading Alone That I Am Still More Or Less Sane.

Perhaps We All Lose Our Sense Of Reality To The Precise Degree To Which We Are Engrossed In Our Own Work, And Perhaps That Is Why We See In The Increasing Complexity Of Our Mental Constructs A Means For Greater Understanding, Even While Intuitively We Know That We Shall Never Be Able To Fathom The Imponderables That Govern Our Course Through Life.

Like Our Bodies And Like Our Desires, The Machines We Have Devised Are Possessed Of A Heart Which Is Slowly Reduced To Embers.

The Seasons And The Years Came And Went...and Always...one Was, As The Crow Flies, About 2,000 Km Away - But From Where? - And Day By Day Hour By Hour, With Every Beat Of The Pulse, One Lost More And More Of One's Qualities, Became Less Comprehensible To Oneself, Increasingly Abstract.

Men And Animals Regard Each Other Across A Gulf Of Mutual Incomprehension.