Amphetamines on cascade keep me from falling down the well. The bunny rabbit calls me home, but the space where my bed's been laid, where I occasionally rest, has got a greater voice. I own no potion to enlarge doors or country houses, nor to make them small. I just possess a straight sense of reality, with upright perceptions and a clear difference between good and evil. I take walks to mitigate the need to flee the fields and everything and everyone in them. Fields of redemption and boredom, of numbness and simple grins, of familiarity and idealisation. Truly, fields of gold.