A Year's A Long Time, But It

Be Alone Even When There's A Million People Around, Because Tomorrow It Will Be A Different Million People.

With Music, I Wasn't Curious Anymore. There Was No Dialogue. By The Time I Stopped, I Knew It Wasn't Going To Be Gone Forever, But It Just Wasn't The Right Time For Me To Care About That.

I'm In The Countryside Outside Of Paris, In A Beautiful Old Manor House. The Studio Is In The Basement, But We Decided To Set Everything Up In The Old Parlor And Dining-room Area So We Can Look At Each Other And (at) The Sunshine Coming Through The Stained-glass Windows. It's Pretty Idyllic, And I Think It's Spoiling Me. I'll Have To Go Back To Regular Life After This.

Now, There's Just So Much Imagery. Imagine What Our Grandkids Are Going To Be Able To See Of Us?

Because There's Just So Much In A Day Now, I Keep Writing In Much More Abstract Terms, Like I Don't Try To Write About What Happened Anymore. It Would Be Impossible.