"Until the real thing comes along...", old songs, entertainments, nostalgias, reliefs, answers found and then lost again. The question remains the same, but you can't bear to meet its full intensity which would be the falling away of everything, not just the ground disappearing from under your feet, your feet disappearing too, the crumbling of every bit of mastery you thought to have earned by now. What have you risked? Never enough. Strip everything away and there is just that will to plunge again into the illusion, into dreams and sweet f utilities. O spare me, spare me again! 'It's all too good!' through gritted teeth. What lends the illusion of certainty to these mediations, these foyers, is the same as what takes it away, elaborations built up, idols installed, the worship of the tribe, and the overturnings in the name of new certainties which are just the old ones in new masks. The wheel keeps turning, you keep turning it, and coming back to the same place until you recognise the step away, the fall. You haven't recognised it yet. Anything but! Keep spinning the wheel, faster, stay hypnotised at all costs.