He found himself remembering how on one summer morning they two had started from New York in search of happiness. They had never expected to find it perhaps yet in itself that quest had been happier than anything he expected forevermore. Life it seemed must be a setting up of props around one - otherwise it was disaster. There was no rest no quiet. He had been futile in longing to drift and dream no one drifted except to maelstroms no one dreamed without his dreams becoming fantastic nightmares of indecision and regret.