A buzz of conversations in a café, and floating over it a voice from a recording singing lyrics of love and loss. The prose and poetry of life running in parallel streams and not mingling. The live words overheard seem made up of gossip and technology talk, and experiences retailed with ephemeral urgency or self-conscious irony. The cocooning of cliques and pairs. What is it that is so eagerly manufactured in these places? A tangled knot of goals, a busy eddy in the current of a day. But then the simple utterance of the singer invokes the void at the edge of all these things, the fragile ground they rest on. The lyrics, however, were carefully composed, perhaps after a note scribbled down in a café, set to music, rehearsed and rearranged. The music ironises their meaning - at any moment this frieze of words could lose its portentous illusion of meaning and sink back into sheer ornament.