All my life, I've usually been put in positions of extreme solitude: it's as if I've been in training for it. One such phase flits through right now. Means less and less human contact, like working in some lab on the moon in an Arthur C Clarke story. And, he comes back to be my biggest companion, floating around, unbanished by any melody-running-from-earphone-to-phone, providing entertainment, asking tough questions and providing the hug after inducing the down-in-the-dumps: my own jetsam-flotsam of thoughts swirling around in an often uncontrollable Molotov cocktail with unpredictable results. My mind. Like Lecter's memory palace or Andy Dufreane's musical retreat, it doubles up as refuge or as instigator.

It tugs at sanity and also reinforces sense. Sticking by me, conjoined as a twin.