Memories, Even Your Most Precious Ones, Fade

When I Got To 40 Or So... I Had The Sense When I Looked Back Over My Life I Would Actually See A Mess Of Decisions, A Few Of Which I Had Thought About, Some Of Which I Had Sort Of Stumbled On, And Many That I Had No Control Over Whatsoever.

If I'm Alone At Home, I Get Increasingly Restless, Bothered By The Idea That I'm Missing Some Crucial Encounter Out There Somewhere. But If I'm Left By Myself In Someone Else's Place, I Often Find Myself A Nice Sense Of Peace Engulfing Me. I Love Sinking Into An Unfamiliar Sofa With Whatever Book Happens To Be Lying Nearby.

You're Always In A Rush, Or Else You're Too Exhausted To Have A Proper Conversation. Soon Enough, The Long Hours, The Traveling, The Broken Sleep Have All Crept Into Your Being And Become Part Of You, So Everyone Can See It, In Your Posture, Your Gaze, The Way You Move And Talk.

Your Life Must Now Run The Course That's Been Set For It.

One Need Hardly Dwell On The Catastrophic Possibility Of Uttering A Bantering Remark Only To Discover It Wholly Inappropriate