Sometimes it is possible to look at another person and know exactly what is going on with them; and I don't necessarily mean people you know well. It may even be harder to know what is happening with someone you know well: you are familiar with them, they are familiar with you, you know how to veil things from each other. Though not always; it depends on the person. The first time I ever smoked dope, I was eighteen, it was at my sister's place in Newmarket, we were lying on the floor in the dark listening to Blind Faith, this was 1970, and I closed my eyes and saw face after face float up in that interior space, these were people I knew, and as I looked at them I saw them change and age and become as they would be when they were old. The vision was involuntary and has never been repeated; while it was happening I had no doubt whatever that my view of these peoples' future faces was entirely accurate, indeed, true. There are no detailed memory traces so I can't check if I was right or not, yet I still think I was. What’s more, if an intuition like that—evanescent, involuntary, seductive—comes again about a person, I trust it. I wouldn’t say I’m never wrong, that would be absurd and anyway half the time the contact or the encounter is casual and fleeting and not of any great moment to yourself or the other; but as a way of being in the world, of negotiating the world, it can sometimes seem more profound than just about any other.