"I too know the man who will not let you stay with him whilst homeless. But this I must add about Flåneur: friends do not, do NOT, I repeat, let friends drum and drive."

"Flâneur sneaks up on you. He comes in so quietly you find yourself thinking: how? How did I never notice the 9' Steinway in the living room? That painting? The Apple products? And then you realize, quite suddenly that yes, yes it was him who sang you to sleep each night; and the tin of olives in the fridge that you never remembered buying, that tin must be his.

You look out the window and you watch the morning lake ("like glass" as your father would say), and the squirrel in the tree, and you watch him. You watch him reading. He turns the page with one hand and pets Ziggy with the other. As you watch him you make tea. You find yourself grabbing two mugs as though you had never grabbed one. You pour two mugs of tea. With a mug in each hand you lean on the screen door with your shoulder. The door squeaks and so you do this very slowly; you want to keep watching. You know you need to remember this moment; the moment you realized he was here, and that he has always been here (as though there were any other place he could have been)."

"Any fellow admirer of Coupland is good people. "