Now that I think about that title, it reminds me of the quiet room at the clinic in the book "Texasville". It's hard to believe, or even remember, that for many years I lived here in almost complete silence. I didn't watch television, talk on the telephone, or listen to music. There weren't neighbors, I never invited anyone over and I would make anyone who happened to drop by leave. I have never had a pet until Kilo came to live with me 4 years ago, so there was no reason to talk. Now, if I walk outside, my new constant companion instantly appears and sticks like glue until I say that it's time for us to go inside so we can: a) check on the animals and Grandparents; b) avoid heat exhaustion; or, c) get rested for a really big evening. I try to mix them up so he doesn't become overly suspicious. He has always been here every day from birth, but only for a few hours. Then two months ago they moved here and he and his toys are everywhere. As I stumble through the maze of bicycles, wagons, robots, cars, skateboards, etc, a few times I have found myself thinking "What Happened?" but generally, It hasn't been a bad experience. I was delighted to find that he has such an amazing imagination, and even happier when he let me know that he knows the difference between pretend and real. Sometimes when I get carried away with my acting he will turn to me and say "Kenneth, this isn't real. We are only pretending that we can, fly (for example)." During the past two months I've gone from regarding him as my Sister's Grandson who could occasionally be entertaining, but was more often sort of annoyingly intrusive, to genuinely liking him as a person, and the link has been the pond. He remembers everything that I show him or tell him about it and incorporates most of the ideas into his big bag of plans. The whole situation (not so much Camron) reminds me of a book I read in high school called "Penrod". It was about a young man with a lot going on every day.