There is kind of a dance that is done in my chair with my shelves all around me. I've got one of those plastic floor covering things you find inside office buildings. I sit on the edge of my chair -- it's not a typical office chair, it sits too low for this desk, too low in the back, but it rolls -- so I roll and I spin and I try to do it with grace, be conscious of every movement, I am in a secret ballet

there is a paper clip sticking out of my mouth when I am not twisting it between my fingers, like I just explained to my superior office-mate, as though I am a farmer and this my blade of grass