In the beginning -- there was fear and doubt and hope: hope the morbid and hope the scornful. In the beginning -- there was memory (memory of pain, and doubt, and fear... and hope). In the beginning... Uncertaintly lay coiled and writhing, serpentine beauty catching my every passing thought: a rattling tail distracting and devouring consciousness. Hope the morbid and hope the scornful cavort merrily upon the playground of my pain, delighting in the subtle pleasures of memory. Where is alice? I''ve been ten feet tall... The rabbit jumped from the airplane and knocked at my toadstool and I''m not sure if I''m falling or floating. Hope the morbid and hope the scornful are calling and jeering. Their voices are fading. Uncertainty extends cautiously and disappears as sunlight bathes it in gentle warmth... substituting silent contentment. Life is good if I''m falling or floating.