"So keep on moving, moving, moving your feet."

"Just keep on walking down
neverending streets."

"This isn't my house," he says. Somewhere in Seattle, we're looking for something from his past.

I say: "I thought you told me this was your house."

He says: "It looks the same, but the number's wrong." We are facing 940; we need to find 1111.

He says: "We got off the bus one stop early."

I say: "Let's keep going," but two houses up the road, we stop.

"I think they tore it down." He is in disbelief. "I think they tore my house down."

I tell him that we're blocks away, that we haven't even reached the Thousands yet. I'm not sure that he hears me. Everything around us is so real; he's expecting ghosts.

TRACK LISTING: The Jam, "Ghosts"