Night at the AsylumIt is a dark and stormy night. With a deafening clap, lightning splits the skies over Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, crouching as it does like a waiting mantis in the depths of the Narrows where the scum at the bottom of the giant centrifuge of civilisation settle. Entombed within its barbed-wire fences and concrete walls, inmates scream back at the heavens, clawing at the sides of their cells like maddened beasts.On the highest floor, at the end of a corridor and behind two sets of soundproof doors, two shadowy figures sit across a table, neither moving, a chess board separating them. The scene would be one of mystery and intrigue, were it not for the stereo sat on a filing cabinet behind the shorter of the figures, which is pumping out aging Swedish pop music with abandon:Ive played all my cards, and thats what youve done too
Nothing more to say, no more aces to play
Suddenly, the shorter figure moves, leaning across the table to flick
SongscapeThey say a picture is a thousand wordsbut a song is a million dreams.******I dreamed I stoodin a forest of redwoodsand watched the stormgather through the leaves.The rain burned as it felland I felt my blood boil,but the trees were still therewhen I opened my eyes.*Yesterday,I met a man who asked me a riddle,but he gave me only the answerand said I knew the question.*A long time ago,I sat on a beach a million miles from homeand watched the castles I had builtcollapse on the sand.My father only saidI should have made them stronger.*I walked past a park this morningand saw the children playing hide-and-seek,and I realisedthat we're playing too,and we'd better be readywhen they stop counting.*On the news, I watched a crowdpush a man from a bridge,and I thought, as he fell,that sometimes the crowdis only in your mind.*When I was a child,I caught a butterflyin a jam jar;blue, black and green.But I let it gobecause I couldn't standto hear it scream.