The lights float across my vision silently, but the sounds are muted, maybe because my mind is full, perhaps they are loud and disruptive, but I don't hear them.
Afternoons stretch into nights here, I am remembering how to do that. To let hours pass, to let belly become empty.
I can stretch life out further on less this way.
Drop things off the plate, watch them crash onto cold concrete or disappear into dry soil.
Did they matter? Perhaps they can feed someone else's fury.
The images are slowing.
The sounds are melding.
The steps move from a shuffle to a simple march.
I'm finding that new rhythm.
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