keeping vigil. incense seeping in from another apartment. it's been raining all night. i'm reading all the water in the world. watching our neighbor's window. the shutters closed. the shutters open. no sun, a light bulb. i go upstairs to look at the project below. a semi-truck-full of trees. there's hope and then change. i keep adding again to the end of a sentence and then removing it. ongoing culmination. i take picture after picture of the off-loading of the hopeful trees and i think of taking picture after picture of the giant saws cutting the trees down, the trees laying down, the birds landing in the dead trees, the trees in pieces being hauled away, the trees coming back as logs, memorial, i think of a log cabin maybe in the land grab playground, and long story short, and continuing, i think of the rain, my neighbor, the people of gaza, death and displacement, and rain. i think of rain and my thoughts are like the rain.