She leaves my side and heads deeper intothe apartment singing if the spirit tries to hide its temple far away acopper for those they ask a diamond for those who stay.

I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.

History doesnt start with a tall buildingand a card with your name written on it but jokes do. I think someone is takingus for suckers and is playing a mean game.

Did Bach ever eatpancakes at midnight

I cant help but ask Do you know where you areShe turns to me with a foreboding glare. Do you

There is a stillness between us a period of restlessness that ties my stomachin a hangmans noose. It is this same lack in noise that lives there in thedarkness of the grave how it frightens me beyond all things.

Call me crazy but there is something terribly wrong with this city.

Do we not each dream of dreams Do we not dance on the notes of lostmemories Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday since dreamsplay when time is askew Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home

How oddly situated a man is apt to find himself at age thirty-eight His youth belongs to the distant past. Yet the period of memory beginning with the end of youth and extending to the present has left him not a single vivid impression. And therefore he persists in feeling that nothing more than a fragile barrier separates him from his youth. He is forever hearing with the utmost clarity the sounds of this neighboring domain but there is no way to penetrate the barrier.Honda felt that his youth had ended with the death of Kiyoaki Matsugae. At that moment something real within him something that had burned with a vibrant brilliance suddenly ceased to be.Now late at night when Honda grew weary of his legal drafts he would pick up the dream journal that Kiyoaki had left him and turn over its pages....Since then eighteen years had passed. The border between dream and memory had grown indistinct in Hondas mind. Because the words contained in this journal his only souvenir of his friend had been traced there by Kiyoakis own hand it had profound significance for Honda. These dreams left like a handful of gold dust in a winnowing pan were charged with wonder.As time went by the dreams and the reality took on equal worth among Hondas diverse memories. What had actually occurred was in the process of merging with what could have occurred. As reality rapidly gave way to dreams the past seemed very much like the future.When he was young there had been only one reality and the future had seemed to stretch before him swelling with immense possibilities. But as he grew older reality seemed to take many forms and it was the past that seemed refracted into innumerable possibilities. Since each of these was linked with its own reality the line distinguishing dream and reality became all the more obscure. His memories were in constant flux and had taken on the aspect of a dream.

When you forget what you ultimately stand for you rejoice in blinding ignorance. Missing the bigger picture for the near pleasure is what humans and all living beings stand for. I guess there is no alternate way either. Because it is after all a game that all are destined to play until they end up dead.