bereft. a lot changes without little changes within. you feel bereft of locality. no contrails, no sirens even, yet the acrid smell of burning trash. everything everywhere always. want unmet with need. this pause is what. regeneration a possibility, though some may come. yearning in the pause. feel, it is unstoppable. still undoing it. still in the powerful predatory presence. still powerless. still feeling encroachment, the known stranger using every direction, circumscription, pressing in. pressing mind. impact watcher, watching for impact. waiting breathing in the plague mask, fogged spectacles, no resistance, and all resist, all skin layered fleeting particles, motes emoting, all the change adding up to a great subtraction. earthward. here, still here, still watching it, earthword, made vacuum, stillness after impact, undone. feel how to feel—powerless—drawn in. how to be alive without knowing why this soul-sick compromise. this pause is people quarantined. the powerful are still out there, maundering earth for enterprise. if you ask is it mine you know it's not yet it is this made up world. there's no escape the locality of this pandemic reality.