Words are a rude club by which to beat an idea through the skull of a reader, and sometimes I feel that is what I want to do. I wish I could beat the images into my own skull. A first impression can only happen once. I can never again go to the desert for the first time, or rediscover the bright colours of the Ethiopians. I think I remember watching a smart businessman in a suit take drugs and collapse, but memory assimilates all, and makes it seem normal.
Thank you for talking to me, and letting me see a flash of that picture. I wish I could remember it.