Sometimes we sleep, or may as well. The world of possibilities that contains and is contained by a day too much and too overwhelming to be but observed slowly through a fog. What shall I do today? Toss a coin.

Sometimes we remember, or remember feeling. To fetch from the vaults of memory is to remember afresh, and to remember afresh to feel afresh. To feel afresh is to reason afresh and it is all still true: this is still was still am still me I, feeling. But nevertheless afresh.

Sometimes we reach out. So fortunate I, who can be held without holding and still feel the warmth. Waves over waves.