Celestial Excursions

“A group of so-called fictitious characters is just as bad as a group of so-called real ones…” The fear is that we won’t go gently or abruptly into that good night. We will hang on in the endurance trials of old age, forever rehearsing in the early morning twilight, fortified by a few hours of faulty sleep, the plot or why there is no plot, the explanations, the why, the lists, the old grievances never to be settled now, the stories never told or passed on, the interruptions, the terrifying proportions, everything larger than it is known to be, distorted in the mirror, and again and again. Old people are special because they have no future. The future is what to eat for breakfast or where did I leave my shoes. Everything else is in the past. But they are still obliged, as human beings, to make sounds. They are obliged to speak, whether or not anyone is listening.