And in the morning I would return to that place off to the side and I would continue to watch the people churn.  The people each ignored me as we all ignored one another, perhaps accepting the presence of the lot or perhaps oblivious to everything but our own peculiar destinations and particular thoughts.  But I think the real reason is that we are not good enough for one another.  Or, rather, nobody else is good enough for us.  But I don't know.  I only have questions.

I sometimes wonder about what I do and why I think about these things, always wondering.  This churning of my mind cannot ever account for anything, cannot ever do anything for anyone.  I simply sit and think and come up with questions that have no answers, questions which eliminate any possibility of change, because only answers can change.  Answers allow for definite action whereas questions only allow for idleness.  I am perpetually idle as I ask my questions and search for my elusive answers.  But my questions have no answers, so I sit.  I suppose I am not so very different from everyone else.  I suppose I am quite as ridiculous as the rest.  But where do they come from, these questions?

Once I met a blind man whose guide dog had run away.  He spent all his time searching for it, feeling his way through the Gallery and calling the name of his dog.  I asked him if he would like my assistance and the benefit of my sight.  He replied that his dog was not in the Gallery, that, in fact, he'd never owned a guide dog.  But this didn't prevent him from searching for it.  In fact, it only made the search more seductive.  I suppose he would like to have a guide dog.  Perhaps that's why he searches.  I wonder what the odds are against his success.