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still in free fall from the broken bridge of his last hopes,
“There follows, I am sad to say, a very long ride on a very slow road…to your final place of rest.”
Less feels his mind drifting away like a spaceman from an airlock, off into the asteroid belt of his own concerns.
the dark rooms and back alleys where everything possible is happening.
His brain feels like it’s on a ferryboat.
Boredom is the only real tragedy for a writer; everything else is material. Robert never said anything of the sort. Boredom is essential for writers; it is the only time they get to write.
The driver works the horn like an outlaw at a gunfight.
