this is the sound of one hand clapping…

All relationships are emptying and…No, I have that wrong. The lyric, not the sentiment. Still, silence has its own rewards, as does honesty; as do lies.

This is sound of stubborn men and childish thoughts. These are numerous concentric circles, incidentally, any resemblance to these vague statements to situtations involving me are absolute coincidence within your own mind. The issues are all my own, I suppose. We’re all silenced by the events within our communication, co-operation: the invisible hand of friendship, and its flirtation with our necks. Delicate flashing lights, passage of blood through the heart, breaking of bonds…Increment by increment…

Honesty is not always the best policy. For truth, as a concept, really hurts. The wounds pulse with every heart beat. It is the wound which never heals, as though the blood which dries into tiny droplets of dark purple diamonds retains the threat to burst from beneath the skin and drench the flesh.

Nothing develops in the shadows, not even photographs, and certainly not dreams. However these opinions retain their own duplicity. Generous self-congratulation erases all doubts, but the truth remains. Behind the thin rice-paper skin of people whom you thought had nothing to hide, there lies a mask, a creation of their own reality. And if they manage to hide everything from you until the darkest hour, your applause at their criminal behaviour must be genuine. As genuine as they were not. For when the maxim tells you to keep your enemies closest, its truth is almost beyond all comprehension. And of all the people in the world to whom that phrase holds value, I am the one who knows it more than most…

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