New Writing:

He rested his cheek against the pillow, against the wall, against the sheer coolness of the window glass. He could have been resplendent in names and voices, in dark shifts of perspective, in the infinite mouthing of thanks upon bitterness - but he wasn't. He moved about the room, endlessly managing infinite film scenes - self-contained pinpricks of sense and essence - while the film in its entirety, rolled on without him.