In The Company Of Familiar Strangers

 It is to the very illusion of the idea, so captivating that any attempt at inscription, renders it essentially obsolete. A matter almost akin to Huxley's conclusions drawn from F.C Bartlett's experimentation in Remembering, of the adulteration of events recalled from memory: the fertile creativity of immense cultivable potential reduced instead to the barren cliche of comfort and convenience. These are the familiar strangers that playfully romp about in our minds at length: just out of comprehension's reach, yet poised firmly within it.

It is the curse of the writer to force himself to be acquainted with them. He is resentful of their unsavoriness, yet he finds he must somehow contend with them, for fear of the almighty tariff of the 'writer's block'. The best lessons in diplomacy, he finds, are best learned in coping with the whims of one's own precarious selves. Still, diplomacy is far from an honest man's game.

"Sing in me Muse, and through me tell the story."