I forget at night and roll over. I don't have space, but somehow I manage to roll over anyway. The pain wakes me up. SETI is murmuring to itself. I fall asleep again.
Repeat to fade.
Seredipity in the bookshops. Digging in boxes, rummaging in black sacks, careless about broken things. Words, rising like smoke, winding, winding, and suddenly a silence, and in it a customer moves a book; did I say something bad? The afternoon is fading, the books are scattered, and there's always more to do, another thing to argue and price or leave for dead.
I'm talking to a friend. My memory blurs and slides. I remember who they are, and what they do, but only two words ahead of the conversation. I try to hold on, but I'm sliding, back, and I can't remember now, who they are or how I know them. He says something, gives me a clue, and I'm back on top of it again, but I can already feel myself sliding again.
Repeat to fade.
Bad picture, good picture.
Iridescent flakes, irregular black shapes.
