magic jumped when i was putting on his harness and i pulled up and hurt my back. a time comes when you're too old for this, more fragile than resilient, maybe. then i learn his mom lost her job, so maybe i won't have to react to his jumping now. i shouldn't say that, but it's basically anonymous here. and if it isn't, it's real, and why not say it. i promise not to say everything happens for a reason or it all works out. even in my head. it doesn't help. much of it works out worse, for no real reason. the time, if we can call it the time, does not seem to be a time of reason. we can be cognizant but it doesn't seem like we can reason our way through this crisis. we can go through it though. if we can we can. i was thinking even when i did this picture in the moment so to say what i like is it doesn't have a subject, it has space and the limit of itself, and it goes beyond the frame, there is no frame, it's not trying to be. i can go back there tomorrow without magic, and it will be there, maybe not the same like today, or yesterday, but it will be there and maybe magic will too. thinking about magic, he knows when we say it we mean him, but he doesn't think of himself as magic, that's us thinking, and we have to call subjects something so they correspond to us. my left eye, the one with a floater, itches in the tear duct. the wind howls. it's one o'clock, i'll read a page or two of this brilliant darkness, a book of strangers, and then lay down and wait for the light to make coffee.