This vista intrigues me the most--- I cannot tell the near and far of its details. My mother had me and now she's a ghost. The vista's details are far away. The closest detail is a verdant image--- the cemetery we courted in yesterday. The feeling of being lost at the college, forgetting where my classes are, the semester still warm but half gone, October's literature, an inky star, my bare feet ridiculous as I asked, "Is there a list of student addresses here?" A blandly friendly woman smiled at my question. No one could help. Imprisoned by an anxious feeling oblivious homelessness was near, I slowly began to fall in love with nature. Grasses had never lived in my vistas, I being an educated human being, the human stretched by sir or mister. Nature had always been a yellow forest vaguely walling off the farther reaches of the vista where I looked but couldn't look. Are the walls the same as what is stretching out? Raphael! Your vanishing point has covered me in doubt. Perspective end to end. And now this dream. It starts here. Ends there. The diners were amused I couldn't get out. A dean moved a screen. What am I bringing to you? Pamela, what can I make you see? Plenty has been replaced by Intricacy. The near things are indifferent: O code, O list, O password reminder! Read my mind! Give them to me!