I go to my happy place, in an imagined past, a land of plenty with unicorns and such. In some ways it resemble Bruegel's painting "The Land of Cockaigne." While I lie near comatose on the floor, trays of goodies bring themselves to me for sampling. I call for music, it plays. Then the fucking phone rings and spoils everything.
I sit and think of everything, then I wonder where I've been.