I tear my name apart and throw it into the ocean where the pieces sparkle for a moment under the sun before they submerge and all that is left are the waves crashing blue, white, and green.
Time moves. Clouds cover the sky.
The wind sings playfully to the rain which drops softly into the sand at my feet.
There is an opposition between the three (the wind, the rain, and the sand) and I am left isolated on the shore.
My memory skips and I find myself standing in a bedroom. Or is it the bedroom. I have no basis to differentiate between the two. The place lacks both a sense of the familiar and the strange.
In front of an open door a pile of dirty clothes lies on the floor, and just outside it, a presence languishes in the inky darkness of the hallway.
The sound of robots flipping switches and the smell of burning butter escape from the kitchen.
A Champaign bottle opens behind me. In the mirror over the vanity I see the shadow of a person by the window. My reflection exposes eyes that are clear and deeply cool but I don’t recognize myself.
I am not here I think. But here and there have no relevance.