I cannot, but I couldn't fit "I" into the subjectline. Those moments that upset are like blunt objects submitting my mind to uncanny trauma, but paradoxically the specificity required to lay this out in words required many words and the more words you use the more emotionally detatched you become from the imagery's disturbing power and thus the further in recedes in your attempts to articulate it verbally. I'll just put it this way: the images you see have already happened, the regret and pain have no immediacy anymore, but are now product, and are horrifically useless cosmically to the souls depicted. Like Magritte explained how his painting of a pipe wasn't a pipe at all. There's no going back. There is no band.