Tom McNamara, age sixty-four, the sok-man in charge of helping the homeless. Successful in most things but not in the one of effort that all men try at sometime in their lives – try to go home again. And also like all men, perhaps there’ll be an occasion, maybe a summer night sometime, when he’ll look up from what he’s doing and listen to the distant music calliope…and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind, there’ll flit a little errant wish, a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he’ll smile then too because he’ll know it is just an errant wish. Some wisp of memory not too important really. Some laughing ghosts that cross a man’s mind… somewhere up the road, he’s looking for sanity. And somewhere up the road, he’ll find something else. In some little way I feel like I am a little pawn being moved by some gigantic being, they have placed me in another dimension, another world, a world where I can hear, speak, listen, see, and talk but everyone around me is unaware that I am even there. I hear them talking but I don’t understand a word they are saying. I see them speaking, at least I think their speaking their lips are moving but I don’t understand a word they are saying. I listen intently as hard as a human can, I even lean in on what I think is a conversation but I don’t understand a word they are saying. I try to talk but they don’t understand a word I am saying. Sanity the ability to think and behave in a normal and rational manner, now, witness if you will a man’s mind and body shriveling in the sun, a man dying of loneliness. I’m in Belarus and I don’t understand a word they are saying…..Welcome to the Twilight Zone.