I don’t drink. I can take a drink—I’m not a sober alcoholic or anything—but I so rarely do that it’s easier to round things down. Alcohol’s a depressant anyway and the last thing a card-carrying depressive like myself needs is encouragement. In 1989 I would still take an odd drink but I never drank to excess and so this is entirely fictional; I’m using drink as a metaphor. I find myself dwelling on the words “vision of you” though. I’ve used “taste” in the previous line so the obvious meaning of “vision” is sight but that’s not all the word means. What did I see when I looked at F.? Or B.? Or myself in the mirror? Something real? People say that to each other—“What we have is real”—and yet most of the time reality sucks. I may not drink or take drugs to escape from reality but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on the imaginary. Far from it.