where it really happens. craving distraction. wishing for a word, a touch. so desperate that even a television voice would be welcome. but this, this is where it happens. tidying, cleaning, attending to old obligations delays the inevitable -- dark despair and glimpses of beauty will crawl out from where they have taken refuge in a busy life, a lathe of solitude curling and gouging away things important, things unnecessary, leaving a remnant
— RonRisley – 19 Aug 2005