Such a dizzy thing, teetering back on your heels and falling into the endless tunnel of every thought that comes along, and then whoop! off in another direction. It really should be impossible to be bored because you have no boundaries in time or in space or in that other dimension that runs dead through the centre of everything like a golden string, like the ultimate elastic and laughing nerve. How can you possibly fall into the belief that you are that little grey box in a little grey world when it all sits inside of this crazy leaping mass of never before and never again, the image of again tied neatly in a knot, so there, so there! and even the thoughts are full of holes, great wide avenues to fall through? Boredom, no, endlessly boring, a tale told by an atom, by an eye, by a ticking here it comes! signifying everything. Oh, all it takes.