There are ants on my studio wall. They move feverishly, trying to Get Somewhere.
They run straight up, toward the crown molding - then, stop. Turn. Jet across at a 45 degree angle. Turn back. Arrive where they began. Start again.
They must Find It. Now! Where is it? WHERE IS IT?
And it occurs to me: I should show these ants to a confidant who can tell me whether or not they are really there, or if instead my thoughts have have begun to crawl along the wall.