12 November 2015

All is quiet of the western front, and eastern, and northern, and southern fronts. The guns that are people's minds and mouths and tippety-tappetting fingers on keyboards have fallen silent. It is the first hour of the 12th day of the 11th month, and I am alone here, lying in the dark, with no other conscious mind aware of me. Alone, again, as we are all and always alone, really, even in the midst of a chat, or an embrace, or a fight. Locked in. Deep and dark inside a skull. Alone... Thank goodness. And goodnight.