A few weeks ago I wrote a poem that I didn't even realize would end up being so appropriate to the times... [he'd previously mentioned that he'd thought the chance of war, even just weeks ago, was very remote] ... it was about waking up to a very peaceful morning, very early, while it was still dark... and hearing the rain down in the valley, and being so thankful for this peaceful moment... and yet at the same time as this placid scene was taking place, there was this war being planned in my name by people who I had nothing to do with them being in the position they're in. And I thought, what part of me... [losing coherence] is represented by this war?