The prose in this book is stream of consciousness. Consciousness never ends. It is always going, even in sleep. It jumps from topic to topic, either of its own invention or in reaction to a stimulus coming through the senses. Consciousness wanders and meanders or hurries to and fro, but it never has anywhere it needs to be. The prose is the same way. It is constant and at times it runs and at times it walks, but it never stops because consciousness never stops.