Who wants me? I am no one. Your dream. It's me you've always desired. When morning calls your name, it's my eyes you see looking at you from the wall across the street--ice, bitter herbs, delay of centuries. I am the water stale in the bottle, I quench your thirst. I am forgotten, the first grade classmate you haven't thought of in thirty-three years and then one day suddenly remember, and you don't understand why--and where am I now, and where are we going?