As Usual Shadows appear and disappear at will, constellations dig their appendages inside the sky and streets narrow. Echoes resound from complicated passageways and old men are murdered along forgotten hallways.
Horses exist, they gallop off across fields.
A woman speaks of her dead mother and cries into an open window. Once or twice, there were even a few lonely ones, just like someone you know, sitting beneath clean ceilings drinking coffee. Just now they are getting up to walk slowly home. Even as you explain to yourself that it was just a dream, buildings collapse, withering under the weight of ordinary thoughts. In the huge bowl of night The din of the stars quite loud As the heavens twist upon their pin Outside the snow falls softly as the news of a death Belly up, accountants flying.