searching rest in movement, I waste myself, afloat carrying and being carried forceful, yielding a soluble state of being availability of moving and being moved letting go carried away bent by what escapes me inhabiting contradictory forces, I find myself in between.

In Sisters Hope Home, I was inside a nervous system larger than me, inside another living organism. The walls were alive, embracing me. We, our bodies, were part of the circuits and metabolism of the Home. How I miss it, having returned to the illusion of being an individual, leading…