So this is all you had in you? It was so much less than you thought. You lived on the interest of a non-existent capital, on the idea of such a capital. More precisely, you never managed to complete a thought, but seized threads from just beyond the horizon and dangled them in as if they had been torn from something closer in. Why the need for such a charade? Thoughts on gazing through the window of a moving vehicle on a bleak and chill morning. Out of love, and the pleasure in disowning yourself. The recovery of a lyric subject that has never been in place and rendering a world in deliberate tones - surprising, the odd places where you feel at home.