Nostalgia Is A Product Of Dissatisfaction And

You Gave Yourself Away, Word By Word, Every Time You Opened Your Trap To Speak.

The Term Itself--my Life--is A Desperate Overstatement.

Clouds Are No Deterrent. Clouds Intensify The Drama, Trap And Shape The Light.

The Smoke Alarm Went Off In The Hallway Upstairs, Either To Let Us Know The Battery Had Just Died Or Because The House Was On Fire.

Doesn't Seem Quite Real. It's Not Meaningful. I Can't Quite Imagine Myself Being 73. That's The Age My Father Was! [laughter.] How Can I Be His Age? It's Weird.