Everything Is Floating

And after the storm, I went down to basement. And everything was floating. Lots of my old keyboards. Thirty projectors. Props from old performances. A fibreglass plane. A motorcycle. Countless papers, and books. And I looked at them floating there on the shiny dark water. Dissolving. All the things I'd carefully saved all my life – becoming nothing but junk

And I thought: 'How beautiful. How magic. And how... catastrophic.'