We are all alone, but at the same time we are not. We seek peace and quiet, but find that when we have too much of it silence becomes a deafening roar. We are taught to be self sufficient but find eventually we return to our early days, having our bottoms wiped and being sung to by a surrogate mother. Our working life meanders along the continuum of fear, complacency, and greed, and where we stand along that line is mostly a matter of chance. We look to our neighbour, shrug our shoulders, and mutter: Yo soy mi y mis circumstancias. We want to reach out to others, but have lost the art of listening, and so hurtle along by ourselves, no closer to the guy sitting next to us on the Number 4 train than Pluto from the sun. Letter to Gary Witt, 27-november-99