CLOAK/3.5

And they don't have that wish to rush ahead that's always being thwarted, that wish, fundamentally, to skip, to cut and run ahead, as in a film. Achievement of fame—cut to the achievement of fame, come back, some other time, to finish what you started until daydreams dragged you down—yes Balzac knew—don't ask but very most importantly don't tell.
- Inspiration? I'll have an idea for a piece but before I have a chance to really do anything with it I get stuck in this fantasy about how it's the future and I'm rich and famous and giving an interview and they ask how I got the idea for this piece, and then suddenly there's this moral dilemma about should I actually say in the interview how when I got the idea for this piece that made me so famous I started having a fantasy about giving this interview, and then I just stop.
Imaginary praise, imaginary fame, the tang in a heavy air that tarnishes, a steady seashell ego roar within the ear, punctuated by the shrills of many species of delusion, including those that swoop down from on high, delusional relations between self and spirit.
Meanwhile the collapse into sand of the props left leaning on the idle hours, and the sand piles' sieving through silver-screened waves.

Cloak, from mildew stains psyche's white sheets released immaculate.