Janey accuses me of chasing jailbait. She bursts into angry tears, asking if it's because she's getting older. It's true. She's aging more noticeably every day... while I am standing still. I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of Earth. These people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. They claim their labours are to build a heaven, yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman. It's too late. Always has been. Always will be. Too late.