the first meeting with george he noted my not breathing. i told him i didn't breathe around g. she said i live in a vacuum. i said i didn't want to exhale vacuum in the letter to g. i told george i didn't want to exhale miasma. he said it's a strong evocative word. a word from a poem i wrote about living in miami, the buried jungle. he broke it down, my asthma. do you have asthma? i smiled. only in my mind.