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

Orr slept. He dreamed. There was no rub.

We read the pagan sacred books with profit and delight. With myth and fable we are ever charmed and find a pleasure in the endless repetition of the beautiful poetic and absurd. We find in all these records of the past philosophies and dreams and efforts stained with tears of great and tender souls who tried to pierce the mystery of life and death to answer the eternal questions of the Whence and Whither and vainly sought to make with bits of shattered glass a mirror that would in very truth reflect the face and form of Natures perfect self.These myths were born of hopes and fears and tears and smiles and they were touched and colored by all there is of joy and grief between the rosy dawn of birth and deaths sad night. They clothed even the stars with passion and gave to gods the faults and frailties of the sons of men. In them the winds and waves were music and all the lakes and streams and springsthe mountains woods and perfumed dells were haunted by a thousand fairy forms. They thrilled the veins of Spring with tremulous desire made tawny Summers billowed breast the throne and home of love filled Autumns arms with sun-kissed grapes and gathered sheaves and pictured Winter as a weak old king who felt like Lear upon his withered face Cordelias tears. These myths though false are beautiful and have for many ages and in countless ways enriched the heart and kindled thought. But if the world were taught that all these things are true and all inspired of God and that eternal punishment will be the lot of him who dares deny or doubt the sweetest myth of all the Fable World would lose its beauty and become a scorned and hateful thing to every brave and thoughtful man.

The longer I lived the longer it would be until I saw him alive again until I could taste his new lips and run my fingers through his new hair. We could be young and beautiful again . . .

When we cant understand the science behind something in this world we make up mythological entities that we can relate to. We personify the forces of nature that mystify us using our boundless imaginations to comfort us and make us feel like we have some control over these things that are much bigger than we are.

I dont think that science and the paranormal have to be at war in fact its crucial that they work together. It seems nave to believe that the world is exactly as it seems.

All is as if the world did cease to exist. The citys monuments go unseen its past unheard and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.