walking at night looking at the light in windows and the shadows of trees extending my body. what was i thinking i keep thinkthinkthinking about what i was thinking walking thinking walking thoughts passing from my head like nightclouds i thought um about the life the lives held within the lighted windows. held, yes. i thought people were playing themselves thinking themselves people not thinking they were playing themselves. thinking thinking thinking thinking wishful sometimes i could stop thinking like emily brontë imbued in the landscape consciousness breathing peat and wuthering wind.