And they wonder why their nervous systems are in a state of perpetual crisis. It seems they take their superficial masks more seriously than they take their souls. They love to categorize themselves in tiny boxes, – gender, race, religion, sexuality – then fight to defend their box. I imagine…

. a distant memory of when there were scents of bloom frequencies of unfurling unknowing yearning sensing across hills and hollows our childhood corroded the mournful call of the house over glaciers of youth and whispers tears alloyed by the hands of time you see us in the archive footprints…