nobody here , a limbo stillness settling with the dust on top of the happy family furniture displays , kitchen tables awaiting the magic wand of life , glossed and lovely among the pre-arranged three-piece suites and sexless , tasteful bedroom units , nobody here until at least ten o'clock when david , wide-tied , rat-eyed , blo-dried david , the other dimension in hagley 's sales drive psychology , richard 's devoted opposite , his schizophrenic salesman balance , would dart in like an american on a training scheme , manoeuvring like a waiter through his ambitious day ; fortunately he was mostly out of store , pushing his mechanical ford penis into the sloth and stupidity of central city traffic leaving me in this lunar , weightless world of middle people 's domestic desires , smoothing out a work/sales sheet hfl3 , dating , signing , respecting its pointless worth through forced habit , sitting at the tiny tin desk , feet stuffed uncomfortably underneath , watching the floor space revolve slowly like the surface of a planet , imperceptibly , an alien planetscape of soulless merchandise set in soft relief by hidden lights and subtle drapes , where strange , lost , unlikely astronauts land with looks of wonder , strolling quietly , respectfully along the avenues of lathe-turned table legs , stunned and overjoyed to find themselves in such a tasteful domestic paradise , stumbling across me , the sole inhabitant , bartering , waving plastic cards like beads at a negro , head in hands , staring at the worksheet , that hateful hfl3 , knowing that i ca n't go on forever in this absurd , smooth speaking , petrified , almost obscene mentally diseased studio : i ca n't .