[Sigh] Folding within oneself. The I is a drug. All I can do is stand. People around me drop like flies but I keep on showing up, even if it means staring at a wall. Cold foot; an unhappy plant. Places are closing and stories are piled up on planks. Distributed rhythmically, my arms reaffirm themselves over and over again. I'm being held by Jackie this morning: "Look how life moves, how that movement is so often a moving *away from*" and "What happened there happened. It couldn't have happened anywhere else, at any other time. It was ... an inexplicable synchronicity, an alignment ... a mutual readiness to be open." [178,179 J.W.] I'm being held by other bodies around me which reaffirm themselves continually. I am not alone. Do you hear this? You wake up with blood in your mouth and there is dust everywhere. The skin has been cut and burned and muscles only deepen within their location. There is not horizontality. You finish a book and I laugh at a sense of tomorrow. It's a drag, most of it. Oranges taste great right now, they give the nicest tremble to your body hair. My only hope is to survive through this. It's a relief to see you like me. It's a relief to see you are like me. I'm getting over some feelings, letting them become stale. I can see things changing. Everything squeezes into a coorporate suit but you're stubborn in the search for nuance which sometimes takes the shapes of periodicals but mostly takes the shapes of walks. Sadness is like colour blue filling up your body; it feels like cold blood. The only continuous task of the month is heating up your body, melting what have become hard muscles and cartilages, rough skins and dried out saliva. It's not like I don't want to be in my body, more that my body doesn't want to be me, here. Point a finger into the place you speak from. Point to a place in your home where you don't have to compromise. Point to a place where lost feelings get stored. Point to those moments when you truly, unabashedly, felt fitted and held and it wasn't about what you'd respond or what you'd make up, because you were being created irl. (Green helps.)