Grey sky clouds like ink in dirty water. Slow orbiting friends, stately passage through space, will they pass again next year? Comets, spinning off into darkness, away from here, small tight orbit where people look, and their noses wrinkle, just for a moment. The cars pass me by, the lorries are waiting, the buses can't see in the wet, they're all becoming impatient.

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.