Excuse me if I prefer the haunting. The haunting comes layered up in time. It slips about, guilted and dirty. You can’t focus on a thing like that. Locating it to a neurological glitch won’t help: that’s just another place it hides. It’s inherent in the worn out babble of events. You aren’t meant to be able to locate it. “I do not know whether a man or a woman/But who is that on the other side of you?” The inevitable companion is evading itself as hard as it’s evading you.