Nothing went the way I dreamed. Sense became complete nonsense, utter insanity, the rational underpinnings pulled like a rug out from under my feet, smacking my skull on unforgiving concrete, speaking in the fit of a storm on the heath, raging against the death of light, taking revenge in the words of a song, voicing complaint in a verse of lament, giving excitement to the reach to a G, lying low in a rumbling A flattened.
Lord Malinov, Song of Songs
