Beyond the distance the of the imaginary place in a young writer's head lies a place where old memories haunt the mind and soul.  The lines pause and a new start is not the beginning but rather a piece of the original.  The lines pause, break, and live as the people read in between the lines and catch a glimpse of what the writer is feeling.  Line after line like people awaiting to enter a concert of a knockoff Mozart.  Interesting and somewhat beautiful as the waves of sound vibrate through our tunnels of invitation.  What is invited is understood or rather thought to be understood, but never understood at all.  They are words and vibrations that belong to the beholder not to the invitees.