Soaked the carpet and set the furniture all afloat.
Remember when I knotted us in narrative, knitted us an atmosphere out of those cruel letters. Letters spelling words one after another, forcing lines, forcing action and the passage of time. I bent them, made them chase each others’ tails in what I thought was a protective ouroboros we could be safe within.
Keep them up there, in the far off sky. The world revolves, while we stay still.
Atmosphere is sky is air is breath, and we must breathe. Inhale those barbed letters, exhale those words that force action and movement and the passage of time.
