• The gentle caress of thought patterns overwhelms my mind with images. Reminiscent of a vintage news reel, headlines flash before me--narrated by some hideous boor, I'm sure.

    The day's events fade to white, and the film slips from the reel, flapping as the wheels continue to turn, heedless of its misfortune.

    My thoughts and I are alone in this empty theater, watching our white screen with fascination. Insects and dust swarm in the beam of light emitting from the small booth at the rear, and the image on the wall reflects their movements. The light fades for but a moment and a new reel begins.

    Memory saunters through the aisle seating itself before my thoughts and I. Loud and boisterous, it will not be ignored. Our tranquil evening is disrupted by its coming.

    Soon its fellows Regret and Longing join Memory in the row before us, the three chatting amicably amongst themselves and drowning out the projected scenes on the wall.

    Within moments, the theater has become crowded with the refuse so common to the human mind. I can bear it no longer, and I steal away with my thoughts to a more intimate place. I sit alone with my thoughts once more.