Listening

Chinwaggery over there. Though I'm not sure how many are listening intently. The one guy who is, used to live upstairs from me round at Polwarth. A fly fisherman. And copper, so he was, and a very decent bloke.
Anyway, today I have just immersed myself in the Railway Man, a great read. The more I read, the more I realise that the film is nowhere compared to the book.
Thew muttered under his breath once: 'I can't think of anything to think about.' Fred Smith hissed back: 'Have you thought about everything already?' 'Yes,' said Thew. 'Well, start again', Fred suggested. But after a time recycling your memories is beyond a joke, and the mind chews itself painfully over and over, cud without nutrition.
I wonder how long he thought of how to describe that. How to explain that so simply and powerfully. He got there.