And so, and so.

And so it happens that, short on exercise and long on wedding fireworks and motorbike races outside the window, a girl finds herself awake at an unecessary hour. The rails around the balcony are haunted by dangerous creatures - they loiter, and they cackle. Not to mention the dark corridors, in this place without lamps. But then a light is fumbled on, and the apartment is a glowing yellow ship, sailing far above the spaghetti junction, and bravely away over the sea towards the stars. She stands at the huge window and steers by idle fancy.

And at this hour, a line from a Velvet Underground song that's been around for years might slip in edgeways, a stray ribbon of a thought, and come alive by suprise. What do you think I'd see, if I could walk away from me? What indeed. Would you look back at yourself, and see you, through a stranger's eyes? But whose eyes? Or would all the glories of the world look different - someone else's glories?

Sometimes, one should stop playing pop philosopher and go back to bed. But the bikes are very loud, and the sheets really offensively floral. The ship, the ship. The roar of the traffic is the wind howling in the rigging and the groan and creak of the hull. I shall make completely unnecessary changes to my desk arrangements, and light candles to smell the wax burn and watch it crawl into shapes.

I once fell in love with you
Just because the sky turned from grey
Into blue.