the air swam a little different in the days following the fire as though held in a state of impassioned disbelief an imposed shock or awe – in breath not quite lost but caught – by oils, and the scene of now blackened embers, charred brick beams of the roof…

Hey you. I am dancing with the sense of who you are. You are living as memories under my skin, but in this writing moment, I have no idea in what corner of my flesh or bones you are hiding or breathing from. I know that you are there, but…