don't forget. there's more than power. there is weakness, that connects the world.

rising with the tide. for some reason right now and so often i think of the girl in ontario i met but once in a farmhouse in a room once vacated by fire whose acrid ghost remained among the small objects place by her and i so shy i barely said a word before going.

engulphed by present memory.

the appearance of disappearance. i wondered if he would ever finish the story.