As I luxuriate in the discovery that I am no special sponge for sorrow, but merely another fallible animal in this stone maze of a city, I come simultaneously to see that I am the focus of some vast device fueled by an obscure desire.

Her brain was a storm, her usual insight gone.

Life is à long journey,
                           you will stumble, find 
                    spikes and pebble on the road
                       until you learn to walk alone

The system was invisible, which made it all the more impressive, all the more disquieting to deal with. But we were in accord, at least for now.

Written By Don DeLillo

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