"Yeah, but I mean, are you saying that it's impossible...
I mean, isn't it a little upsetting...
to come to the conclusion that
there's no way to wake
people up anymore...
except to involve them in
some kind of a strange,
christening in Poland,
or some kind of a strange experience on top of Mount Everest?
I mean, because, you know
that the awful thing is...
if you really say that
it's necessary... to take
everybody to Everest...
it's really tough, because
everybody can't be
taken to Everest.
I mean, there must have
been periods in history
when it would have been possible...
to, Save The Patient through less drastic measures.
I mean, there must have been periods when in order
to give people... a strong or
meaningful experience...
you wouldn't actually have to take
them to Everest. But you do now.
In some way or other, you do now.
You know, there was a time when
you could have just, for instance,
written... I don't know,
Sense and Sensibility
by Jane Austen.
And I'm sure the people who read it
had a pretty strong experience.
I'm sure they did. I mean, all right,
now you're saying that
people today wouldn't get it.
Maybe that's True.
But I mean, isn't there any kind
of writing or any kind of a play...
I mean, isn't it still legitimate
for writers to try to portray reality
so that people can see it?
I mean, really, tell me, why do we require a trip to Mount Everest...
in order to be able to perceive
one moment of reality?
I mean, is Mount Everest
more real than New York?
I mean, isn't New York real?
I mean, you see, I think if you could become fully aware... of what existed in the cigar store next door to this restaurant... I think it would just blow your brains out. I mean, isn't there just as much Reality to be perceived... in a cigar store as there is on Mount Everest?
I mean, What Do You Think?”
“I think that not only is there nothing more real about Mount Everest...
I think there's nothing that different, in a certain way.
I mean, because reality
is uniform, in a way...
so that if your, if your perceptions are... I mean, if your own mechanism is operating correctly,
it would become irrelevant to go to Mount Everest, and sort of absurd... because, I mean, it just, I mean, of course, on some level, I mean... obviously it's very different from a cigar store on 7th Avenue. But I mean...
Well, I agree with you, Wally.
But The Problem is that
people can't see The Cigar Store now.
I mean, things don't affect people the way they used to.
I mean, it may very well be that 10 years from now...
people will pay $10,000 in cash to be castrated...
just in order to be affected by something.
Well, why do you think that is?
I mean, why is that?
I mean, is it just because people are lazy today, or they're bored?
I mean, are we just like
bored, spoiled children,
who've just been lying in the bathtub all day
just playing with
their plastic duck,
and now they're just thinking,
"Well, what can I do?"
Okay. Yes. We're bored.
We're all bored now.
But has it every occurred to you, Wally, that the process
that creates this boredom that we see in the world now... may very well be a self-perpetuating, unconscious form of brainwashing... created by a world totalitarian government based on money... and that all of this is much more dangerous than one thinks... and it's not just a question of individual survival, Wally... but that somebody who's bored is asleep... and somebody who's asleep will not say no? See, I keep meeting these people... I mean, just a few days ago... I met this man whom I greatly admire. He's a Swedish physicist. Gustav Bjornstrand. And he told me that he no longer watches television... he doesn't read newspapers, and he doesn't read magazines. He's completely cut them out of his life... because he really does feel that we're living in some kind of Orwellian nightmare now... and that everything that you hear now contributes to turning you into a robot. And when i was at Findhorn, i met this extraordinary English tree expert... who had devoted his life to saving trees. Just got back from Washington, lobbying to save the redwoods. He's 84 years old, and he always travels with a backpack... 'cause he never knows where he's gonna be tomorrow. And when I met him at Findhorn, he said to me, "Where are you from?" I said, "New York." He said, "Ah, New York. Yes, that's a very interesting place. Do you know a lot of New Yorkers who keep talking about the fact that they want to leave, but never do?" And I said, "Oh,yes." And he said, "Why do you think they don't leave?" I gave him different banal theories. He said, "Oh, I don't think it's that way at all." He said, "I think that New York is the new model for the new concentration camp... ...where the camp has been built by the inmates themselves... ...and the inmates are the guards, and they have this pride in this thing they've built. ...They've built their own prison. ...And so they exist in a state of schizophrenia... ...where they are both guards and prisoners. ...And as a result, they no longer have, having been lobotomized... ...the capacity to leave the prison they've made... ...or to even see it as a prison." And then he went into his pocket, and he took out a seed for a tree... and he said, "This is a pine tree." He put it in my hand and he said, "Escape before it's too late." See, actually, for two or three years now... Chiquita and I have had this very unpleasant feeling that we really should get out. We really feel like Jews in Germany in the late '30s. Get out of here. Of course, the problem is where to go. 'Cause it seems quite obvious that the whole world is going in the same direction.
See, I think it's quite possible that the 1960s... represented the last burst of the human being before he was extinguished... and that this is the beginning of the rest of the future, now... and that from now on there'll simply be all these robots walking around... feeling nothing, thinking nothing. And there'll be nobody left almost to remind them... that there once was a species called a human being... with feelings and thoughts... and that history and memory are right now being erased... and soon nobody will really remember... that life existed on the planet. Now, of course, Bjornstrand feels that there's really almost no hope... and that we're probably going back to a very savage... lawless, terrifying period. Findhorn people see it a little differently. They're feeling that there'll be these pockets of light... springing up in different parts of the world... and that these will be, in a way, invisible planets on this planet... and that as we, or the world, grow colder... we can take invisible space journeys to these different planets... refuel for what it is we need to do on the planet itself... and come back. And it's their feeling that there have to be centers now... where people can come and reconstruct a new future for the world. And when I was talking to, Gustav Bjornstrand... he was saying that actually these centers are growing up everywhere now... and that what they're trying to do, which is what Findhorn was trying to do... and, in a way, what I was trying to do... I mean, these things can't be given names... but in a way, these are all attempts at creating a new kind of school... or a new kind of monastery. And Bjornstrand talks about the concept of "reserves" islands of safety where history can be remembered... and the human being can continue to function... in order to maintain the species through a dark age. In other words, we're talking about an underground... which did exist in a different way during the Dark Ages... among the mystical orders of the church. And the purpose of this underground... is to find out how to preserve the light, life, the culture... how to keep things living, You see, I keep thinking that what we need... is a new language... a language of the heart... a language, as in the Polish forest, where language wasn't needed. Some kind of language between people that is a new kind of poetry... that's the poetry of the dancing bee that tells us where the honey is. And I think that in order to create that language... you're going to have to learn how you can go through a looking glass... into another kind of perception... where you have that sense of being united to all things... and suddenly you understand everything. Are you ready for some dessert? Uh, I think I'll just have an espresso. Thank you. - Very good. - I'll also have one. Thank you. And, could I also have, an amaretto? Certainly, sir. Thank you. You see, Wally, there's this incredible building that they built at Findhorn. And the man who designed it had never designed anything in his life. He wrote children's books. And some people wanted it to be a sort of hall of meditation... and others wanted it to be a kind of lecture hall. But the psychic part of the community wanted it to serve another function as well... because they wanted it to be a kind of spaceship which at night could rise up... and let the UFO's know that this was a safe place to land... and that they would find friends there. So, the problem was, 'cause it needed a massive kind of roof... was how to have a roof that would stay on the building... but at the same time be able to fly up at night and meet the flying saucers. So, the architect meditated and meditated... and he finally came up with the very simple solution... of not actually joining the roof to the building... which means that it should fall off... because they have great gales up in northern Scotland. So, to keep it from falling off, he got beach stones from the beach... or we did, 'cause I worked on this building... all up and down the roof, just like that. And the idea was that the energy that would flow from stone to stone... would be so strong, you see... that it would keep the roof down under any conditions... but at the same time, if the roof needed to go up, it would be light enough to go up. Well, it works, you see. Now, architects don't know why it works... and it shouldn't work, 'cause it should fall off. But it works. It does work. The gales blow, and the roof should fall off, but it doesn't fall off.
Yep. Well, uh...
Do you want to know
my actual response to all this?
Do you want to hear my
actual response?
Yes!
See, my actual response, I mean... I mean, I'm just trying to survive, you know? I mean, I'm just trying to earn a living... just trying to pay my rent and my bills. I mean... Ah, I live my life. I enjoy staying home with Debby. I'm reading Charlton Heston's autobiography. And that's that. I mean, you know, I mean, occasionally, maybe... Debby and I will step outside, we'll go to a party or something. And if I can occasionally get my little talent together and write a little play... well, then that's just wonderful. And I mean, I enjoy reading about other little plays people have written... and reading the reviews of those plays and what people said about them... and what people said about what people said. And I mean, I have a list of errands and responsibilities that I keep in a notebook. I enjoy going through the notebook... carrying out the responsibilities, doing the errands... and crossing them off the list. And, I mean, I just don't know how anybody could enjoy anything more... than I enjoy, reading Charlton Heston's autobiography... or, you know, getting up in the morning... and having the cup of cold coffee that's been waiting for me all night... still there for me to drink in the morning... and no cockroach or fly has died in it overnight. I mean, I'm just so thrilled when I get up... and I see that coffee there, just the way I wanted it. I mean, I just can't imagine.. How anybody could enjoy something else any more than that. I mean, obviously, if the cockroach, if there is a dead cockroach in it... well, then I just have a feeling of disappointment, and I'm sad. But I mean, I just don't think... I feel the need for anything more than all this. Whereas, you know, you seem to be saying... that, uh... it's inconceivable that anybody could be having a meaningful life today... and, you know, everyone is totally destroyed... and we all need to live in these outposts. But I mean, you know, I just can't believe, even for you... I mean, don't you find, isn't it pleasant just to get up in the morning... and there's Chiquita, there are the children.... and The Times is delivered, you can read it. I mean, maybe you'll direct a play, maybe you won't direct a play. But forget about the play that you may or may not direct. Why is it necessary to, why not lean back and just enjoy these details? I mean, and there'd be a delicious cup of coffee and a piece of coffeecake. I mean, why is it necessary to have more than this... or to even think about having more than this? I mean, I don't really know what you're talking about. I mean, I know what you're talking about... but I don't really know what you're talking about. And I mean, you know, even if I were to totally agree with you, you know... and even if I were to accept the idea that there's just no way for anybody... to have personal happiness now... well, you know, I still couldn't accept the idea... that the way to make life wonderful would be to just totally... you know, reject Western civilization... and fall back into some kind of belief in some kind of weird something.
I mean, I don't even know
how to begin talking about this...
but you know, in the Middle Ages... before the arrival of
scientific thinking as we know it today...
well, people could believe anything.
Anything could be True,
The statue of the Virgin Mary... could speak or bleed or whatever it was.
But the wonderful thing that happened
was that then in the development
of Science in the Western world,
certain things did come
slowly to be known and understood.
I mean, you know... obviously, all ideas in science are constantly being revised.
I mean, that's the whole point.
But we do at least know that the universe has some shape and order... and that, you know,
trees do not turn into
people or goddesses...
and there are very good reasons
why they don't, and
you can't just believe
absolutely anything.
Whereas, the things
that you're talking about...
I mean, I mean, you found the handprint in the book... and there were three "André"s and one Antoine de Saint-Exupery. And to me that is a coincidence. But, and, and then, you know, the people who put that book together... well, they had their own reasons for putting it together. But to you it was significant, as if that book had been written 40 years ago... so that you would see it, as if it was planned for you, in a way. I mean, really, I mean... I mean, all right, let's say, if I get a fortune cookie in a Chinese restaurant... I mean, of course, even I have a tendency. I mean, you know, I mean, of course, I would hardly throw it out. I mean, I read it. I read it, and, and... I just instinctively sort of, you know, if it says something like, uh... "A conversation with a dark-haired man will be very important for you" Well, I just instinctively think, you know, "Who do I know who has dark hair?" "Did we have a conversation?" "What did we talk about?" In other words, there's something in me that makes me read it... and I instinctively interpret it as if it were an omen of the future. But in my conscious opinion, which is so fundamental to my whole view of life... I mean, I would just have to change totally to not have this opinion. In my conscious opinion, this is simply something... that was written in the cookie factory several years ago and in no way refers to me. I mean, you know, the, the fact that I got it. I mean, the man who wrote it did not know anything about me. I mean, he could not have known anything about me. There's no way that this cookie could actually have to do with me. And the fact that I've gotten it is just basically a joke. And I mean, if I were gonna go on a trip on an airplane... and I got a fortune cookie that said "Don't go!" I mean, of course, I admit I might feel a bit nervous for about one second. But in fact, I would go because, I mean... that trip is gonna be successful or unsuccessful... based on the state of the airplane and the state of the pilot. And the cookie is in no position to know about that. And I mean, you know, it's the same... with any kind of, prophecy, or a sign, or an omen. Because if you believe in omens then that means that the universe... I mean, I don't even know how to begin to describe this. That means that the future is somehow sending messages... backwards to the present. Which, which means that the future must exist in some sense already... in order to be able to send these messages. And it also means that things in the universe are there for a purpose... to give us messages. Whereas I think that things in the universe are just there. I mean, they don't mean anything. I mean, you know, if the turtle's egg falls out of the tree and splashes on the paving stones... it's just because that turtle was clumsy by accident. And, and to decide whether to send my ships off to war on the basis of that... seems a big mistake to me. Well, what information would you send your ships to war on? Because if it's all meaningless... what's the difference whether you accept the fortune cookie... or the statistics of the Ford Foundation? It doesn't seem to matter. Well, the meaningless fact of the fortune cookie or the turtles egg... can't possibly have any relevance to the subject you're analyzing. Whereas a group of meaningless facts that are collected and interpreted... in a scientific way may quite possibly be relevant. Because the wonderful thing about scientific theories about things... is that they're based on experiments that can be repeated. Well, it's true, Wally. I mean, you know, following omens and so on... İs probably just a way of letting ourselves off the hook... so that we don't have to take individual responsibility for our own actions. But I mean, giving yourself over to the unconscious... can leave you vulnerable to all sorts of very frightening manipulation. And in all the work that I was involved in, there was always that danger. And there was always that question of tampering with people's lives... because if I lead one of these workshops, then I do become partly a doctor... and partly a therapist, and partly a priest. And I'm not a doctor, or a therapist or a priest. And already some of these new monasteries... or communities or whatever we've been talking about... are becoming institutionalized... and I guess even in a way, at times, sort of fascistic. You know, there's a sort of self-satisfied elitist paranoia that grows up... a feeling of "them" and "us"... that is very unsettling. But I mean, the thing is, Wally, I think it's the exaggerated worship of science... that has led us into this situation. I mean, science has been held up to us as a magical force... that would somehow solve everything. Well, quite the contrary. It's done quite the contrary. It's destroyed everything. So that is what has really led, I think... to this very strong, deep reaction against science that we're seeing now... just as the Nazi demons that were released in the '30s in Germany... were probably a reaction against a certain oppressive kind of knowledge... and culture and rational thinking. Sol agree that we're talking about something potentially very dangerous. But modern science has not been particularly less dangerous. Right. Well, I agree with you. I completely agree. No, you know, the truth is... I think I do know what really disturbs me about the work you've described... and I don't even know if I can express it. But somehow it seems that the whole point of the work that you did in those workshops... when you get right down to it and you ask what was it really about... The whole point, really, I think... was to enable the people in the workshops, including yourself... to somehow sort of strip away every scrap of purposefulness... from certain selected moments. And the point of it was so that you would then all be able to experience... somehow just pure being. In other words, you were trying to discover what it would be like to live for certain moments... without having any particular thing that you were supposed to be doing. And I think I just simply object to that. I mean, I just don't think I accept the idea that there should be moments... in which you're not trying to do anything. I think, it's our nature, to do things. I think we should do things. I think that, purposefulness... is part of our ineradicable basic human structure. And to say that we ought to be able to live without it... is like saying that, a tree ought to be able to live without branches or roots. But, but actually, without branches or roots, it wouldn't be a tree. I mean, it would just be a log. Do you see what I'm saying? I mean, in other words, if I'm sitting at home and I have nothing to do... well, I naturally reach for a book. I mean, what would be so great about just sitting there and, doing nothing? It just seems absurd. And if Debby is there? Well, that's just the same thing. I mean, is there really such a thing as, uh... two people doing nothing but just being together? I mean, would they simply then... be, "relating," to use the word we're always using? I mean, what would that mean? I mean, either we're gonna have a conversation... or we're going to, carry out the garbage... or we're going to do something, separately or together. I mean, do you see what I'm saying? I mean, what does it mean to just, simply, sit there? That makes you nervous. Well, why shouldn't it make me nervous? It just seems ridiculous to me. That's interesting, Wally. You know, when I went to Ladakh in western Tibet and stayed on a farm for a month... well, there, you know, when people come over in the evening for tea, nobody says anything. Unless there's something to say, but there almost never is. So they just sit there and drink their tea, and it doesn't seem to bother them. I mean, you see, the trouble, Wally, with always being active and doing things... is that I think it's quite possible to do all sorts of things... and at the same time be completely dead inside. I mean, you're doing all these things, but are you doing them... because you really feel an impulse to do them... or are you doing them mechanically, as we were saying before? Because I really do believe that if you're just living mechanically... then you have to change your life. I mean, you know, when you're young, you go out on dates all the time. You go dancing or something. You're floating free. And then one day suddenly you find yourself in a relationship... and suddenly everything freezes. And this can be true in your work as well. And I mean, of course, if you're really alive inside... then of course there's no problem. I mean, if you're living with somebody in one little room... and there's a life going on between you and the person you're living with... well, then a whole adventure can be going on right in that room. But there's always the danger that things can go dead. Then I really do think you have to kind of become a hobo or something, you know... like Kerouac, and go out on the road. I really believe that. You know, it's not that wonderful to spend your life on the road. My own overwhelming preference is to stay in that room if you can. But you know, if you live with somebody for a long time, people are constantly saying... "Well, of course it's not as great as it used to be, but that's only natural. The first blush of a romance goes, and that's the way it has to be." Now, I totally disagree with that. But I do think that you have to constantly ask yourself the question, with total frankness: "Is your marriage still a marriage?" "Is the sacramental element there?" Just as you have to ask about the sacramental element in your work... "Is it still there?" I mean, it's a very frightening thing, Wally, to have to suddenly realize... that, my God, I thought I was living my life, but in fact I haven't been a human being. I've been a performer. I haven't been living. I've been acting. I've, I've acted the role of the father. I've acted the role of the husband. I've acted the role of the friend. I've acted the role of the writer, or director, or what have you. I've lived in the same room with this person, but I haven't really seen them. I haven't really heard them. I haven't really been with them. Yeah, I know some people are just sometimes... uh, existing just side by side. I mean, the other person's, face could just turn into a great wolf's face... and, it just wouldn't be noticed. And it wouldn't be noticed, no. It wouldn't be noticed. I mean, when I was in Israel a little while ago... I mean, I have this picture of Chiquita that was taken when she... I always carry it with me. It was taken when she was about 26 or something. And it's in summer, and she's stretched out on a terrace... in this sort of old-fashioned long skirt that's kind of pulled up. And she's slim and sensual and beautiful. And I've always looked at that picture and just thought about just how sexy she looks. And then last year in Israel, I looked at the picture... and I realized that that face in the picture was the saddest face in the world. That girl at that time was just lost... so sad and so alone. I've been carrying this picture for years and not ever really seeing what it is, you know. I just never really looked at the picture. And then, at a certain point, I realized I'd just gone for a good 18 years unable to feel... except in the most extreme situations. I mean, to some extent, I still had the ability to live in my work. That was why I was such a work junkie. That was why I felt that every play that I did was a matter of my life or my death. But in my real life, I was dead. I was a robot. I mean, I didn't even allow myself to get angry or annoyed. I mean, you know, today Chiquita, Nicolas, Marina... All day long, as people do, they do things that annoy me and they say things that annoy me. And today I get annoyed. And they say, "Why are you annoyed?" And I say, "Because you're annoying." you know. And when I allowed myself to consider the possibility... of not spending the rest of my life with Chiquita... I realized that what I wanted most in life was to always be with her. But at that time, I hadn't learned what it would be like to let yourself react... to another human being. And if you can't react to another person... then there's no possibility of action or interaction. And if there isn't, I don't really know what the word "love" means... except duty, obligation, sentimentality, fear. I mean... I don't know about you, Wally, but I... I just had to put myself into a kind of training program to learn how to be a human being. I mean, how did I feel about anything? I didn't know. What kind of things did I like? What kind of people did I really want to be with? You know? And the only way that I could think of to find out... was to just cut out all the noise and stop performing all the time... and just listen to what was inside me. See, I think a time comes when you need to do that. Now, maybe in order to do it, you have to go to the Sahara... and maybe you can do it at home. But you need to cut out the noise. Yeah. Of course, personally, I, I just... I usually don't like those quiet moments, you know. I really don't. I mean, I don't know if it's that, Freudian thing or what... But, you know, the fear of unconscious impulses... or my own aggression or whatever, but... if things get too quiet, and I find myself just, sitting there... you know, as we were saying before... I mean, whether I'm by myself, or, or I'm, I'm with someone else... I just, I just have this feeling of... my God, I'm going to be revealed. In other words, I'm adequate to do any sort of a task... but I'm not adequate, just to, to be a human being. I mean, in other words, I'm not... If l'm just, trapped there and I'm not allowed to do things... but all I can do is just, be there... well, I'll just fail. I mean, in other words... I can pass any other sort of a test... and, you know, I can even get an "A" if I put in the required effort... but I just don't... I just don't have a clue how to pass this test. I mean, of course, I realize this isn't a test... but, I see it as a test... and I feel I'm going to fail it. I mean, it's, it's very scary. I just feel, just totally at sea. I mean... Well, you know, I could imagine a life, Wally... in which each day would become an incredible, monumental, creative task... and we're not necessarily up to it. I mean, if you felt like walking out on the person you live with, you'd walk out. Then if you felt like it, you'd come back. But meanwhile, the other person would have reacted to your walking out. It would be a life of such feeling. I mean, what was amazing in the workshops I led... was how quickly people seemed to fall into enthusiasm... celebration, joy, wonder, abandon, wildness, tenderness. Could we stand to live like that? Yeah, I think it's that moment of contact with another person. I mean, that's what scares us. I mean, that moment of being face to face with another person. I mean, now... You wouldn't think it would be so frightening. It's strange that we find it so frightening. Well, it isn't that strange. I mean, first of all, there are some pretty good reasons for being frightened. I mean, you know, the human being is a complex and dangerous creature. I mean, really, if you start living each moment? Christ, that's quite a challenge. I mean, if you really reach out and you're really in touch with the other person... well, that really is something to strive for, I think, I really do. Yeah, it's just so pathetic if one doesn't do that. Of course there's a problem, because the closer you come, I think, to another human being... the more completely mysterious and unreachable... that person becomes. I mean, you know, you have to reach out, you have to go back and forth with them... and you have to relate, and yet you're relating to a ghost or something. I don't know, because we're ghosts. We're phantoms. Who are we? And that's to face, to confront the fact that you're completely alone. And to accept that you're alone is to accept death. You mean, because somehow when you are alone, you're alone with death. I mean, nothing's obstructing your view of it, or something like that. Right. You know, if I understood it correctly, I think, Heidegger said... that, if you were to experience your own being to the full... you'd be experiencing the decay of that being toward death... as a part of your experience. You know, in the sexual act there's that moment of complete forgetting... which is so incredible. Then in the next moment, you start to think about things: work on the play, what you've got to do tomorrow. I don't know if this is true of you, but I think it must be quite common. The world comes in quite fast. Now, that again may be because we're afraid to stay in that place of forgetting... because that, again, is close to death. Like people who are afraid to go to sleep. In other words, you interrelate, and you don't know what the next moment will bring. And to not know what the next moment will bring... brings you closer to a perception of death.
You see, that's why I think that people have affairs.
I mean, you know, in the theater, if you get good reviews...
You feel for a moment that you've got your hands on something.
You know what I mean?
I mean, it's a good feeling.
But then that feeling goes quite quickly.
And once again, you don't know quite what you should do next.
“What'll happen?”
Well, have an affair, and up to a certain point... you can really feel that you're on firm ground, you know. There's a sexual conquest to be made. There are different questions. Does she enjoy the ears being nibbled? How intensely can you talk about Schopenhauer at some elegant French restaurant? Whatever nonsense it is, It's all, I think, to give you the semblance that there's firm earth. Well, have a real relationship with a person that goes on for years... That's completely unpredictable. Then you've cut of fall your ties to the land, and you're sailing into the unknown... into uncharted seas. I mean, you know, people hold on to these images of father, mother, husband, wife... again for the same reason... 'cause they seem to provide some firm ground. But there's no wife there. What does that mean? A wife. A husband. A son. A baby holds your hands... and then suddenly there's this huge man lifting you off the ground... and then he's gone. Where's that son?
[Wally Narrating]
All the other customers seemed
to have left hours ago —
We got The Bill,
and André paid
for Our Dinner,
Really?
[Wally Narrating]
I treated myself to a taxi,
and I rode Home through The City streets.
There wasn't a street,
there wasn't a building,
that wasn't connected to
some memory in My Mind —
There, I was buying
a suit with My Father.
There, I was having an
ice cream soda after school.
When I finally came in,
Debby was Home from Work....
and I told her everything about
My Dinner with André.
