I Am Gripped By An Existential Panic.

I've Never Written An Autobiographical Novel In My Life. I've Never Touched Upon My Life. I've Never Written A Single Scene That I Can Say Took Place.

By The Time You Finish Reading This Sentence, A Boeing Jetliner Will Take Off Or Land Somewhere In The World.

I Keep Feeling That People Are Becoming Less Human And More Animalistic. They Seem To Think Less And Feel Less So That Everyone Is Operating On A Very Primitive Level. I Wonder What You And I Will See In Our Lifetimes. It Seems So Hopeless Yet We Must Keep On Trying ... I Guess We Can't Escape Being A Product Of The Times, Can We?

I Had Dreamed Of Something So Different From What Reality Was Now Offering Up, But That Dream Had Been A Blind Man's Vision. That Dream Was A Miracle. The Morning Was Fading. And I Remembered Yet Again That I Was A Tourist Here.

No One Is Drawn To Writing About Being Happy Or Feelings Of Joy.