One constant in a world of variables - a man alone in the evening in his patch of vegetables. and all the things he takes down with him there, where the easement runs along the back fence.
Hearing the sound of your breathing as you sleep, with the dog at your feet, his head resting on a shoe, and the clock's ticking like water dripping in a sink - I know that, even if reincarnation were a fact, given the inherent cruelty of the world where beautiful things and people are blasted apart all the day long, I would never want to come back, knowing I could never be this lucky twice.
