I Used To Think We Were Going

The Best Of All Possible Cages.' Ben Stepped Back To Regard The Job With A Sad Smile. 'what More Can One Ask?

The Flock Gets Sight Of A Spot Of Blood On Some Chicken And They All Go To Peckin' At It, See, Till They Rip The Chicken To Shreds, Blood And Bones And Feathers. But Usually A Couple Of The Flock Gets Spotted In The Fracas, Then It's Their Turn. And A Few More Gets Spots And Gets Pecked To Death, And More And More. Oh, A Peckin' Party Can Wipe Out The Whole Flock In A Matter Of A Few Hours, Buddy, I Seen It. A Mighty Awesome Sight. The Only Way To Prevent It—with Chickens—is To Clip Blinders On Them. So's They Can't See.

Time Overlaps Itself. A Breath Breathed From A Passing Breeze Is Not The Whole Wind, Neither Is It Just The Last Of What Has Passed And The First Of What Will Come, But Is More--let Me See--more Like A Single Point Plucked On A Single Strand Of A Vast Spider Web Of Winds, Setting The Whole Scene Atingle. That Way; It Overlaps ... As Prehistoric Ferns Grow From Bathtub Planters.

The Job Is To Seek Mystery, Evoke Mystery, Plant A Garden In Which Strange Plants Grow And Mysteries Bloom. The Need For Mystery Is Greater Than The Need For An Answer.

No, My Friend. We Are Lunatics From The Hospital Up The Highway, Psycho-ceramics, The Cracked Pots Of Mankind. Would You Like Me To Decipher A Rorschach For You?